Changes In the Band
by Jinxd n cursed
Summary: Fern faces her tenth grade year with a new band director and an unexpected love
1. I

Tenth grade.

The year it all changed, the year I lost my goody-goody attitude, the year I lost my virginity, the year I fell in love with someone completely unexpected.

Who the hell am I? Well, the name is Alexandria Fern Scott but most people call me Fern. To say a little about myself before that joyful, painful year, I was a bit of a band geek. (Well, I kind of still am.) What does that mean? It means that when they held sign ups in the fifth grade, I was first in line. I wanted to play trumpet, unlike all the other girls who wanted to play flute or clarinet. In the time after that, I threw myself into it, taking lessons and pushing into the state/county path. Although I was the district's pride and joy, our band was not.

Unfortunately, the school seemed to have trouble holding anyone in the spot as middle school band director so we had a new person every year. This took its toll on all the musicians and the band began to suffer. The eighth grade director, Mrs. Johnson, was my favorite off all the ones I'd had prior to tenth grade and encouraged me to try new things in music. I ended up composing several pieces and switching to French horn, a choice I never regretted. As in the words of my private instructor, "You're a complete natural at the French horn and you're better at it than you are at the trumpet."

Needless to say, I was pleased and continued to play the socks off everyone in the state on two instruments. I figured in high school we'd have one band director the whole time, one that could appreciate having me as a student for a length of time.

No such luck.

At the end of freshman year, Mr. Harvey announced that he had been offered a position as a principal in a very fancy school upstate and he was taking it. We were getting a new band director, a guy named Mr. Dempsey. He was young, only a year out of college but absolutely brilliant, if a little on the crazy side.

I didn't care; I was already prepared to hate him. Mr. Harvey was supposed to have been my constant and he failed me so I would hate whoever came in his place.

"You'll like him, Ferny," he told me as I was helping him pack up the room on his last day at the school. "He's brilliant. And he's a French horn player. He'll be coming in soon."

I sighed. "I don't care, Mr. H," I told him.

"Give him a chance," he replied. "I know you Fern, and I know him. You'll get along famously."

"Whatever," I said, packing his conga drums into a box.

"Am I interrupting something?" a male voice asked.

I looked up and saw a man in the doorway. He was tall and lean with chocolaty brown eyes behind silver rimmed glasses. His face held an easy smile and his thick brown hair flopped casually over his forehead.

I straightened. That guy was hot.

"Hey David," Mr. Harvey said. "No, we were just arguing about something. Fern, this is David Dempsey. David, this is Alexandria Scott. She prefers to be called Fern."

David offered his hand for me to shake and I took it. "It's nice to meet you Mr. Dempsey," I told him.

"Please," he said. "Call me David."

"Okay David," I said with a smile. He released my fingers. It left a warm feeling there.

Mr. Harvey smiled at us. "Why don't we go out and get lunch?" he suggested.

"That would be great," David said. "Where?"

"Alfredo's okay?" Mr. Harvey asked.

I nodded. "Today's the pizza, pasta, Pepsi special," I said. "Although, Coke is better than Pepsi but lets not get into that debate."

"You guys go there often?" David questioned.

"Yeah," Mr. Harvey answered. "I've known Fern since she was a seventh grader and I was helping with marching band. I've never seen anyone so dedicated. She and I started going out for lunch because I had to drive her back and forth to county, state, and all honors orchestra and band."

"I take it she's the brilliant musician you've been telling me about?" David said. "The composer/trumpet player/French horn player you've been singing about?"

Mr. Harvey nodded. "The one and only. Wait until you hear her play. Words cannot describe it."

I blushed. "I'm not that good."

"Yes you are," he argued. He grinned. "Come on, let's go eat. Who's driving?"

"Can I?" I asked. "I passed driver's ed with a 98 percent!"

Mr. Harvey rolled his eyes. "I'll probably regret this later when we get pulled over by the cops but go ahead. Just don't crash it." He handed me his keys.

I smiled. "I passed the test under Mrs. Macmillian, the toughest instructor. I think I can do this."

"Okay," Mr. Harvey told me.

Fifteen minutes later, I was grinning as we pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. Mr. Harvey was shaking but David sat calmly in the back.

"What are you shaking for, Robbie?" David asked. "She's a good driver."

I beamed and flipped my dark brown hair over my shoulder.

"It's not that she's a bad driver," he said. "It's just like being a father while his little baby girl learns to drive."

Although I had never told him this, I had grown to think of Mr. Harvey as my father. My dad had died when I was in the seventh grade. He kind of took over his place when I needed him. Right then would have been the perfect time to tell him except for the small fact that David was in the car. I simply gave Mr. Harvey a meaningful smile.

"Shall we go in?" David suggested.

"Sure," I said, unbuckling my seatbelt, handing the keys to Mr. Harvey, and getting out of the car. David pushed my seat forward to get out of the two-door sedan and we all walked into Alfredo's together.

"Hello Robbie, Alexandria," Tony, the owner, greeted us. "And who is this handsome fellow? Did Alexandria finally get herself a boyfriend? Now you treat her nice young man, she's very special."

"Tony," I said in extreme mortification. "Please stop before you embarrass us both further. David is the new band director for the high school."

Tony had the grace o flush.

"Oh," he said. "The special in the usual way?"

"One third cheese, one third veggie, and one third pepperoni with spaghetti marinara all right with you guys?"

They nodded.

"Make it diet Pepsi, will you Tony? I'd rather like to fit into my bathing suit," I said.

"Yes m'am, Alexandria," Tony said, going back into the kitchens, leaving us to sit in our favorite booth by the window. David slid in across from Mr. H and me.

"So," David said. "Tell me, Fern, where do you want to go to college?"

"Yale," I told him. 'They've got the music programs I want, plus the writing and the prestige of being an Ivy League school."

He nodded. "Big dreams," he said. "Yale is an awesome school. I went there for a competition. I went to Ithaca and spent most of the time studying in London."

"Cool," I said. "I've always wanted to go to Europe. I always thought I'd go to Oxford."

"That's a good school," David answered. "Just not much of a music school."

"Del State was a good program," Mr. Harvey offered.

"Yeah but look at the average SAT scores and Academics. I could get an 800 SAT and still get in," I reminded him. "I could've gotten in and gotten a hefty scholarship as a seventh grader.

"Okay," Mr. Harvey said. "Shoot down my dreams of you getting a full scholarship to my old school."

I grinned. "You bet," I said. "If it makes you feel better, I'll apply."

David laughed at our joking manner. As he did, his knee brushed mine and I flushed for some reason.

Tony came by with a pitcher of soda and three glasses. "Tina will bring out your food in a minute," he informed us.

"Okay, Thanks Tony," Mr. Harvey replied.

David watched him leave before turning and looking at me. "So Fern, you're a tenth grader, right? How old are you?"

"Sixteen on November first," I said. "I took Drivers ed early."

"Cool," he replied, nodding. "Sweet Sixteen. What do you think you'll do?"

"My mom wants to throw a big party with all my friends and family. I'm thinking forties night or a luau," I told him.

"Interesting," he answered. "Forties night… I've never seen that done before."

I smiled. I liked being different. That was my explanation for the black converse sneakers, black clothes, tiara, and band tee shirts.

"Thank you," I said.

David grinned at me as a teenage girl set a massive pizza, a huge bowl of spaghetti, and three plates on the table. "Here you go," she said. "Let me know if there's anything else I can get you."

"Thanks," I said, taking a slice of veggie pizza and putting it on my plate.

Mr. Harvey wrinkled his nose. "How can you eat that?" he asked.

"You know why," I said. "I refuse to kill innocent animals for food."

"Really?" David said, taking a slice of cheese pizza. "Interesting. I agree with you about the not killing animals but I like meat. I don't eat red meat though."

"Well you're better than most people I know," I said. I looked at Mr. Harvey pointedly.

He threw up his hands in resignation. "Hey! Don't look at me like that. The animals would die anyway."

"Yeah yeah yeah," I replied. "That's what they all say."

We continued eating without further discussion of our eating habits.

"Can I drive again?" I asked eagerly as we walked out of the restaurant an hour later.

Mr. Harvey handed me the keys. "I'll ride in the back this time though."

I laughed as I pressed the button to unlock the car. Mr. Harvey climbed in the back and I sat down in the driver's seat, sticking the key in the ignition. David slid in the passenger's side and buckled his seat belt.

"Go easy on me, will you Fern?" Mr. Harvey requested from the back seat.

I grinned at him in the rearview mirror. "Sure thing Mr. Harvey. I'll drive to the best of my ability and avoid car crashes."

He muttered something unintelligible as I backed out of the parking lot.

"Would you mind sticking around a bit so I can hear you play?" David asked once we were on the highway.

"Sure as long as you can give me a ride home," I answered. "Mom works until Midnight tonight."

"Okay," he replied. "What does your mom do?"

"She's an ER doctor," I told him. "It's good money but the hours really suck. She usually has to work really late."

"I bet," he replied. "My aunt used to work in the ER. Sometimes she'd have to pull the holiday shift."

"The story of my life," I said. "Mom actually volunteers for them since I'm older, Dad's gone, and she has to pay for my college by herself."

"Where is your dad?" he asked. "Divorce?"

I shook my head. "He died when I was in the seventh grade. Car accident."

"I'm so sad for you," David said.

He didn't say he was sorry. I appreciated that because I didn't want people to feel sorry for me.

I pulled into the parking lot outside of the band room and got out, handing the keys to Mr. Harvey.

"I have to go for now Fern," Mr. Harvey told me. He gave me a quick hug. "I'll call you later so we can discuss the details for tomorrow."

"All right," I told him. "See you later."

David and I proceeded into the band room. While he was setting up a music stand and two chairs, I screwed the bell into my double horn and placed the mouthpiece in. I loved my horn. I had found it on ebay for $350, an incredible deal for a horn for worth over $2,000. Even though I'd had it for two years, it still shined like the day I bought it.

"That's a nice horn," he said. "Is it new?"

I shook my head. "I just treat is like it's made of glass. No dents or scratches on it."

He held out his hands and I handed him the instrument very carefully. Being careful not to drop it or get fingerprints on it, David looked it over from all angles.

"Nice," he appraised. "Maestro, right? Real silver or nickel?"

"Silver," I told him.

He handed it back to me.

"That horn had to cost you," he replied. "Jeez, it's worth several thousand."

"Three hundred fifty dollars," I informed him. "Ah, the magic of ebay."

"That's a steal, he said. "Why don't you warm up while I see what I want you to play?"

I nodded and began going over my scales up to five flats and sharps. He flipped through the filing cabinets and the pieces in my folder before selecting a piece I had played and memorized in the eighth grade.

I looked up at him briefly before starting off. It was a relatively difficult piece when I was in the eighth grade. The sixteenth note combinations had driven me crazy before but they didn't bug me anymore. I played it perfectly, paying special attention to the articulation and dynamics that I had often ignored. I loved that piece. It was sad and slow and yet somehow bright and happy at times. I had been required to play it for an audition on my French horn for county band.

He nodded as I played the last note. "You're really good," he praised. "You sight read like that?"

I shook my head. "I played that in the eighth grade. If you'll look on the outside of the file, it says 'County Band.' I had to play it for the audition."

"Oh," he said. "Let me find something else. This time, tell me if you've had it before."

He shuffled through reams of solos. "Do you want some help?" I asked. "I know which drawers I've been through and the ones I haven't."

"Please," he said.

I stood up and went to the very bottom drawer of the French horn cabinet. We had a huge library of music so each instrument had their own two filing cabinets. I'd been digging through them since I was in seventh grade and had sight-read almost all of it. I only had one drawer left. Mr. Harvey had ordered some new music for me but it wasn't in yet.

"This is the only drawer I haven't been in yet," I told him. "The rest is either way too easy or I've already done it."

"Really?" he said. "Jeez. I'm going to have to order you some more music."

He began flipping through the solos. "Are you sure you even want to attempt some of these? They're really tough."

I glanced over his shoulder at a piece he was currently scanning. "That one doesn't look too bad. Yeah, the sixteenth and thirty-second note combinations can be tricky but if I slow it down by about fifteen beats per minutes, I can probably get it."

He stared at me over his shoulder as if I was speaking another language.

"You're kidding right?" he asked.

"Well, I guess I wouldn't have to slow it down that much," I said, misunderstanding. "Maybe just ten."

"That's not what I meant," he said. "I had to play this in college and stumbled through it badly and yet I still nailed first chair and you're talking about the things I never thought of."

I shrugged.

"All right," he said. "Let's see how you do on this one."

I stood up fully and picked up my horn as he set the music on my stand. I briefly looked over it before putting my horn to my lips. As I had decided previously, I slowed it down a notch to make it easier to play. It was fast and had some complex rhythm combinations that I barely made it through but I didn't really stumble until I hit the section where it slowed down drastically. I played the first few notes unevenly before getting it back under me.

"I can do better," I said automatically when I finished. That was my automatic response when I made even the smallest mistake while sight-reading.

He laughed.

"It's not funny!" I told him. "I messed up in a really easy section, I should have accented those arpeggios more, my dynamics were off, and a probably could have gone faster if only I'd tried harder."

"It's not that," he said. "It's just that you played it better the first time than I ever could and yet you say you need to do better. I agree with you on the things you can improve but don't you realize how amazingly you just did?"

I shrugged.

He shook his head. "You have no idea how incredibly gifted you are," he told me with another shake.

I smiled briefly.

"You can pack up your horn," he told me. "I'll take you home."

"I don't want to leave yet," I told him. "The house is just too empty. Can I stay and help you get organized?"

"Sure," he replied. "If you can stay until five, we can go get something to eat before I take you home."

I nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

"Let's start by tearing down these old posters and fingering charts," he said. "I've got new stuff to hang."

"Okay," I agreed. I grabbed a step stool. At only five feet tall, I was too short to get some of the photos Mr. Harvey had hung up near the top of the room. "I think we should take the trophies off the shelves and force the office to give us the extra trophy cabinet that they've been saving for the football team."

"Is it empty?" he asked.

I nodded, laughing silently. "They got it in 1974 and we haven't won a single thing to put in it."

He laughed with me. "I'll call down and see what I can do."

With a little finagling on his part and some heavy duty lifting from both of us, plus two custodians and the principal, the trophy cabinet was in the band room half an hour later.

"Now remember, if the football team wins the championship, the cabinet comes out right away," the principal reminded us.

"Yes sir, Mr. Bunting," David told him. We watched him leave. "Is he always like that? Such a… a…"

"Go ahead," I told him. "I will not repeat anything you say."

He grinned. "Is he always such a prick with a stick up his ass?"

I smiled. "Unfortunately, yes. He nearly had a coronary when he realized I was here. Did you see? I'm the school pride and joy apparently."

He laughed. "Published at 14?" he asked. "Jeez. No wonder he's crazy about you."

"You actually paid attention to his babbling about me?" I asked. "I tuned him out rather quickly."

He grinned. "It was interesting to hear what he had to say about you," he told me. "A B in algebra?"

I nodded. "And it was almost a C. I got lucky. The teacher graded me on the curve. I really don't like math much. And it was Trigonometry, thank you very much. He always forgets to mention that."

"Seriously?" he asked.

"Yeah," I told him. "Academic challenge program. It's an accelerated path so I can complete a year of college before I leave high school."

"Cool," he said. "I wish they had that when I was in high school."

I smiled. "It's a good program but it's really tough. We go faster than a normal class so I get a lot of homework."

"Sounds tough," he said. "I barely passed Calculus in college and yet you're a tenth grader about to start pre-calc."

"Well, yeah," I said. "But is not likely that I will do very well in pre-calc as I barely made it through Trig."

"I can help you if you really need it," he offered. "I made it through pre-calc pretty well. It's just when they start getting into the really complex stuff that I get lost."

"That would be great," I said as I placed the marching band trophies in the cabinet. There were still too many to fit inside the massive cabinet so I placed the rest on top. "It's rather sad isn't it," I said, surveying my work.

"What?" David asked.

"We have too many trophies to fit inside this cabinet and yet the football team has nothing to put in it," I told him.

He laughed. "True," he replied. "I'm going to go strip the decorations from the office. Would you mind pulling everything down from the bulletin boards?"

"Sure," I answered, turning my back on him as I walked over the Dan's board. Dan had graduated that year. He had served us well as a tuba player and everyone loved him. One of the smaller bulletin boards had been dedicated to him and his fan mail. I decided to pack everything up and save it to give to him at the band banquet the following night.

As I tore down all of the posters, pictures, and notices from the boards, I thought about David. I was completely breaking my promise to myself. I was supposed to hate him. Instead I found myself drawn to him as a kindred spirit. More than that though probably. I could tell I was already developing a crush on him. Too bad he was a teacher and the school had an anti-fraternization rule.

I stopped after I stripped the last board. The walls were so bare and blank. All of the pictures and things I had come to know were gone and I was left with an empty room. It was the end of an age; the age of innocence, the age of oblivion, the age of everything I had known prior. And at that moment, I knew things were going to be very different.


	2. II

"What are you standing around for?" David asked, startling me from my thoughts.

"Sorry," I said. "I was just thinking about something."

"It's all right Fern," he said. "Do me a favor and go up into the instrument loft and bring down everything that's up there. I want to draw some posters for the walls."

"Okay," I told him. "Expect that task to take several hours."

He shrugged. "We've got almost all day."

I walked up and down the stairs to the loft hauling instruments with me. Most were brass instruments including five French horns, six mellophones, two tubas, three sousaphones, five baritones, six trumpets, a bass clarinet, two tenor saxes, a baritone sax, a box of assorted percussion instruments, the extra bass drum, two suspended cymbals, and a massive box of flutes, clarinets, and oboes.

"Good God," David said when he saw the huge amount of instruments I had just hauled down. "The school certainly has plenty of instruments."

"I know," I told him. "Trouble is, we don't really have anyone to play them."

"We can fix that," he said. "We'll be recruiting as early as fifth grade."

"Ambitious," I said.

"I know," he said. "My dream is for a two hundred and fifty piece band. And that doesn't include color guard, pom-pom squad, or dance team."

I looked at him like he was crazy. Well, he was wasn't he? It was highly doubtful we could ever acquire that many people to play.

"You think I'm crazy now but just wait," he told me. He smiled. "Unless you have your own, take your pick of the Mellophones so you can practice over the summer. I already picked the music for the new season and I plan on making copies later. I'll give you yours now."

I nodded. I had never been given my choice of the mellophones before, being an underclassman and one of seven, even if I was the most advanced player.The previous year, I had ended up with a dented, beat up, scratched horn. I knew which one I wanted, I just had to find it first.

"Which one are you looking for?" he asked as I went through the cases.

"The silver one," I answered. "Real silver, lots of fingerprints, 5C mouthpiece, polishing cloth and valve oil are in the case." I frowned. "Wait. There are only six cases. There should be seven. Hold on a second."

I got up and went into the office. Sure enough, it was in the pile that needed repairs.

"Damn," I cursed when I saw it was in the pile. "It has to be repaired first. It's Probably the valve. Frankie never could oil them correctly. I always had to do the adjusting for him."

He stared at me.

"The valves don't work unless you put them in just so," I explained. "I'm the only one with enough patience to get them right."

"Oh," he said. "Why don't you adjust it while I carry out my evil plan?"

"Evil plan?" I asked.

"You'll see," he said, exiting the office.

I shrugged and got out the horn. I began adjusting the valves and polishing all the fingerprints off. It took me half an hour to get it done but it was well worth it because it looked almost new again. After placing it back in the case, I went to see what David was up to.

"You didn't!" I shrieked when I saw what he had done.

"I did," he confirmed.

"Geez," I said. I shook my head. It was unbelievable. He'd somehow managed to cover up every square inch of dingy yellow painted bricks with dry erase boards, bulletin boards, and fingering charts. All the dry erase boards and bulletin boards were painted blue, gold, or white to go with the school's colors. "What's with all the boards?"

"Every person gets their own," he explained. "That way, I can post messages, hang up music, and everyone gets to decorate the band room."

"How'd you hang them all up?" I asked. I hadn't heard any hammers or power drills.

"This special super-strong mounting adhesive," he said. "Now tell me, which one do you want? I have some notes I want to put up already."

"I get to choose?" I asked.

He nodded. "Whichever one you want. Any one of them that doesn't have anything on it already."

I surveyed the room. I wanted a relatively big one that could be easily accessed by even the shortest person. I quickly settled on one close to the door. It was a nice corkboard painted dark blue.

"This one," I told him.

He smiled. "Great. Go on the computer in my office and create a paper for each person. Put their name on it and tack one to each board. That should keep you occupied long enough for me to do what I want to do."

"Okay," I told him. I wondered what he would write to/about me. Our band was small at only 45 instrumentalists. It took me a while to get it all done though because I decided to do fancy text effects. After completing the assigned task, I poked my head out the door. "Is it safe for me to come in?"

David jumped slightly and blushed. "Sure, I'll go in the office to finish this."

I smiled. Then I shook my head. I got to pick out where everyone's board was. I even had the option of giving my enemies the worst spots and my friends the best spots. Grinning all the while, I gave Ashley and Bailea two large bulletin boards and gave Paisley a small one that was too high for her to reach. Of course, I also gave the spots out according to seniority as well; seniors got the best spots and freshmen got the worst.

"What else do you want me to do?" I asked David.

"Could you take inventory of all the instruments and then take them back up to the loft?" he requested. "I'll be out to help you in a few more minutes."

"It must be a long letter you're writing me," I commented.

"Yes, it is," he said.

I shrugged and began taking inventory of all the instruments and checking to see which ones needed repairs. Grunting, I heaved the first two sousaphones up the stairs. On the top step I tripped.

"Whoa!" I shouted as I fell back down the stairs. For a few seconds I was suspended in air, free falling. Then my head slammed into the ground, followed by the rest of my body and one of the sousaphone cases slamming into my stomach. "Ow," I moaned. My arm hurt. And my head.

David came running over. "Are you hurt?" he demanded. He heaved the sousaphone off my stomach and knelt down beside me.

"A little," I told him, trying to sit up.

"Oh shit," he cursed, looking at the back of my head. When he reached up and touched my hair, I winced and his hand came away bloody. "Does it hurt anywhere else?"

"My arm," I told him.

"Which one?" he asked.

"Left," I told him. "I twisted it a bit but I think I'm okay."

He took my hand in his own and examined it carefully. It was slightly swollen but not too bad. "I'm taking you to the hospital," he decided.

"Hell no," I told him. "I'm fine."

"No you're not," he said.

"I am not going to the hospital. Just get me some ice," I told him.

"But you might have a concussion," he argued.

"Look, get me some ice and if the bleeding doesn't stop in twenty minutes or I feel lightheaded, we'll go to the hospital, okay?" I said.

"All right," he agreed reluctantly. "Let me help you up."

He took one of my hands in his own and out his other arm around my shoulder. Carefully, we stood up together and walked into his office. While he ran to get ice, I inspected the damage. There was a three-inch long gash in the back of my head. Blood was matted in my hair as well, the long hair I had been trying to grow. I knew I needed stitches and they would have to cut all my hair off to do it. Or just to examine the gash closely for that matter.

David rushed back in with an ice pack wrapped in an old dishtowel. He handed it to me. "Stay right here. I will go put everything up. Shout if you need anything at all or if you come to your senses bout going to the hospital."

"Did you finish my letter yet?" I asked with a slight smile.

He grinned. "On the desk. Here you go." Handed me a small sheaf of papers. I unfolded them and began to look over them. The first sheet was a drawing of a pretty girl playing the French horn. The drawing was of me, I realized, only better. My eyes seemed a deeper brown than usual and my smile brighter. The second sheet was when the letter began.

Dear Fern,

I feel so incredibly lucky simply to have met you and heard you play, much less have you in my band. You are so incredibly gifted, even if you don't seem to see it. Or rather hear it. I can't wait to see what you can really do.

You seem like a fun person to get to know. I look forward to talking to you, eating lunch with you, hanging out with you, playing with you, going out with you. I'm looking forward to this year. Now here's the part where I tell you a little about myself.

I grew up in Virginia way up in the Appalachians. I was a bit of a band geek, much like I suspect you are. I played trumpet, French horn, and tuba for my band, French horn being my preference. My band director always doted on me for being willing to try new things. I did every single band thing I possibly could and marched with the high school band when I was just in seventh grade. I loved band beyond all reason. I wrote music that the band performed. You know the feeling of hearing someone perform your piece. I've seen your name on some of the things on the cabinets, the good stuff too.

When I went off to college, I was first chair starting my freshman year. It was more due to the fact that everyone else wasn't very good than anything else. I did my best though. I loved marching as much as I loved life. That was probably part of my problem. You see, the problem was, most girls didn't understand that I lived for marching band. They wanted to be the center of my world. All of my girlfriends broke up with me for it. It didn't really bug me until Angela. I loved her but not enough to give up band. I haven't dated anyone since.

Listen to me going on and on about my personal life to a student I hardly know. I hope you don't think it's odd that I'm telling you this because I want to tell you for some reason. Isn't that odd? Now that I've told you most of the painful details of my life, I hope you'll be willing to share some of yours.

Always,

David

Had I really seen those crossed out words? It was probably just wishful thinking. They'd been crossed out many times and were nearly impossible to decipher. Maybe it said something else. I shook her head and lifted the sheet to look at the next letter. I saw it and laughed. It was done in bright magic Markers. It read:

Ferny! Ferny! She's our girl

With her French horn, she'll conquer the world

The mighty French horn section of one

She loves to play and have some fun

And if you don't believe this rhyme

Come to a parade and see her play next time

It was decorated with little music notes and instruments. I loved it. David was so nice to me, even if we'd just met. I decided to write him a letter back.

_Dear David, _

_I can't believe how great this year is going to be. I must confess, before meeting you, I was so sure I would hate whoever took over Mr. Harvey's place. Now I'm looking forward to being around you and seeing what you can do with this band. This is going to be one hell of a year. It'll be great. _

_Since, you shared your life story, I find it only fair to tell you mine. I was born here in Seaford in the same hospital my mom now works at. My dad had really wanted a daughter more than anything and he was overjoyed to have me. I was always a daddy's girl. I grew up loving music. He taught me to play guitar and piano but when fifth grade came, I chose trumpet, his instrument. He taught me a lot and when he's done all he could, he carted me off to lessons twice a week in Baltimore. I loved it because it meant four hours of car rides with just me and my dad. _

_Crazy as it seems to most of my friends, my mom and I were never that close. Sure, we had some bonding over PMS and large boob endowment but that was about it. When I was in seventh grade, things changed. On the way back from one of my lessons, a drunk driver slammed into us. Dad was killed. I was put in the hospital for two weeks before I could come home. I had head injuries. I continued playing even though dad was gone. It was all I really had left of him. I still took lessons but I had to do them closer to home. I took them from Mr. Harvey and a guy from Mayville called Mr. Lee. That's why Mr. Harvey and I are so close. He kind of took over as my father. He did all the things my father did, took me back and forth to lessons, took me out for lunch, and made me feel special. He started taking me to lessons in Baltimore every other week because he knew he couldn't do much more for me. That's why I reacted so badly when he said he was leaving. He's like my father. I didn't want him to leave. I know it's for the best now though because You're here now. _

_Always,_

_Fern_

I stood up and walked slowly over to his office. Lightheadedness had resulted from the fall and I was feeling a little tipsy. I placed the letter on his desk and started back.

"Whoa," I said as a particularly large wave of dizziness hit me. I grabbed the nearest chair.

"Careful," he told me, grabbing my arm. "Come on, sit back down. Let me finish this and I'll take you to the hospital."

I didn't object because I knew I needed to go. Dizziness was not a good sign.

He put one hand gently on the small of my back as he guided me out the band room door.

"I would ask to drive," I joked. "But I get the feeling you'd say no."

"Correct," he told me as he unlocked his Lumina. I sat down carefully in the front seat.

For most of the drive to the hospital, we were silent. I could tell he felt bad about my fall. I wasn't sure how to tell him it wasn't his fault though.

"Careful," he told me as we got out of the car. He grabbed my hand and put his other arm around my shoulder. As much as I really didn't need that support at that moment, it still felt nice. Together, we walked into the ER.

"Hey Tina," I greeted the receptionist.

"Hey Alex," she replied. "Here to see your mom?"

I almost shook my head but thought better of it. "No, head trauma," I told her. "I fell down a flight of steps and gashed open the back of my head."

She turned slightly white. "I'll send Dr. Gupta out for you. She'll take care of you. Do you want me to get your mom?"

"No," I told her. "I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

She nodded. "Just wait right by the doors. He'll be right out for you."

David's arm was still around my shoulder even though I didn't need it. A few seconds later, a tall Asian doctor walked out. He smiled when he saw me.

"Hey Alex," he greeted me. "Long time, no see. Although, I would be happier to see you if you weren't here for an injury. Come on, bring your boyfriend with you if you want."

"He's not…" I began.

"I understand if you're trying to keep it secret from your mom," he assured me. "It's okay. I won't tell."

I shrugged, not wanting to explain in further detail that I was going to the hospital with my band director who I happened to have a crush on.

We came into an exam room and I sat on the table.

"I know the history. Just tell me how you did it and I'll stitch you up," he told me.

"I fell down a flight of stairs onto a tile floor. A sousaphone slammed into me," I informed him.

He shook his head and smiled. "Always a band girl, aren't we? Unfortunately, you know what comes next."

"The hair?" I asked, reaching for a clump of the dark brown hair that was my pride and joy. It was long enough for me to sit on.

He nodded.

"Can I see the scissors?" I asked. "If it has to be cut, I want to do it myself."

He handed me a pair of sharp scissors.

"How short?" I asked.

"No longer than an inch," he told me. "At least around the gash."

I groaned and held the scissors up to make the first cut. When I tried, I couldn't seem to do it. I handed David the scissors. "Please?"

He placed a hand on my shoulder and I closed my eyes as he began cutting. He was gentle about it and ten minutes later I had an uneven (but still kind of cute) pixie cut.

"Can I have my hair?" I asked. "I know its stupid but I've had it so long…"

Dr. Gupta nodded. "I'll get a bag for you. If you want, you can donate it to locks of love and give a chemo person a wig."

"I'll think about it," I replied, staring at the clump of hair in my hands. I missed it and I felt strangely lightheaded.

"Okay," Dr. Gupta said. "Let me take a look."

Carefully, he examined the gash on my head. "It's swollen so I can't stitch it. I'll bandage it for you and I want you to put ice on it. When the swelling goes down, come back in to I can stitch it up. I'm going to give you a shot of lidocaine into your scalp now though because I need to clean it out."

I hated needles. David saw my distress and grabbed my hand as he shoved the needle under the skin in my scalp. A second later, I didn't feel anything else there.

"There we go," he said a few minutes later, taping on the last of the bandages. "Come back tomorrow, even if the swelling isn't down. You can go. I'll talk to your mom about this later."

I nodded and stood up. "Thanks, Dr. Gupta."

"Not a problem Alex," he told me. "Take care and see you tomorrow."

David and I walked out of the hospital and into the bright late afternoon sunshine.

"I'm really sorry about all this," he told me as we got back in the car.

"It's okay," I assured him. "I just want to get home and put some ice on it."

"Does it hurt bad?" he asked.

"Not too bad," I told him. "Sure, my head is filled with a throbbing pain but it could be a hell of a lot worse."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I should've…"

"Shut up," I told him. "Shut up and stop blaming yourself. It was my own damn fault. If I hadn't tried to haul two sousaphones up the steps, I would've been fine. You're not to blame, okay?"

He nodded. "Yes boss."

I grinned. "Seriously," I told him.

He looked over at me and grinned. It was like a spell. It seemed like I was staring into his soul. Our grins faded as we could see all that the other was feeling and thinking. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to kiss him. I leaned forward ever so slightly.

Wait.

I couldn't do it, he was my teacher. There was no way kissing him would be allowed. I looked out the car window, knowing what I'd seen in his eyes. He had wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss him.

"Shall we get going?" I said.

"Sure," he replied, placing his one hand on the wheel and turning the key in the ignition. We rolled out of the parking lot. "Which way?"

"Left," I told him. I leaned back against the seat and sighed. We drove along, me giving him directions to the development where my mom and I lived.

"Thanks for driving me home," I told him.

"Not a problem," he said as I opened the door. "Fern?" His eyes were hopeful.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Can I call you later? Just to see how you're doing?" he questioned.

"Sure," I told him.

He smiled. "Good. See you Fern."

"See you David," I replied, walking up to the garage door. I waved at him as I went inside. I knew my head would hurt in just a few minutes but right then, all I could feel was how hard and how deep I was falling for David Dempsey.

XxXxXxXxX

Okay, I figured since its chapter 2, it's time for a few author's notes. Here's the shmeal: Just so you all know, I have this story completely mapped out (and I will take the secret to the grave if I have to! Mwa ha ha ha ha!) and I am already set in my ways. As a warning to those who might have a problem with it, David and Fern will end up together. Why? Because I want them to! I want a rather controversial story. Also, Sarah, please note that I'd prefer you leave personal information about me out of your reviews. Especially ahem about whom I happen to have a bit of a crush on, okay? I'd prefer that kind of stuff not get out.


	3. III

            The phone rang sharply, startling me from my thoughts. Since arriving home, I'd procured an ice pack for her head, turned on the T.V. to a halfway decent movie, and had began idly debating what to do for dinner. Slightly rattled, I reached for the receiver. 

            "Hello?" I answered. 

            "Hi sweetheart," said my mother in a tired voice. "I heard you came in with a head laceration. Are you okay?" 

            "I'm fine," I told her. "I fell down a flight of stairs. I'll be fine. I'm putting ice on it and I'm going in tomorrow to have it stitched up." 

            "Do you need any painkillers?" she asked. 

            "No, I'll be fine with some ibuprofen," I replied. 

            "All right sweetie," she told me. I heard her sigh on the other end. "Listen sweetie, I know I was supposed to get off at midnight but I have to pull a double shift. Dr. Jansen called in sick."

            "But that's a twenty–four hours shift," I said. 

            "I know," she replied. "But I can do it. I'll see you tomorrow around lunchtime. Love you, bye."  

            She hung up the phone. That's how talks between my mother and I always were, distant. I sighed and hung up the phone in the cradle. I'd only put it down for a second before it rang again. 

            "Hello?" I answered. 

            "Hi? Fern?" It was David. 

            I smiled slightly. "Hi David." 

            "How are you?" he asked, concerned. 

            It was sweet. "I'm doing okay. I'm just putting a little ice on my head while I debate what to do for food," I informed him. 

            He was silent for a second. I wondered why. Was he feeling bad because I couldn't think of stuff to eat?

            "Don't do anything," he told me. "I'll be over in an hour with food."

            "You don't have to do that," I told him. 

            "I want to," he replied. "Any preferences?" 

            "No," I replied.

            "Good," he replied. "I'll be over in an hour." 

            After hanging up the phone, I decided to get my lazy ass off the couch and clean up the house enough for company. I also needed a shower as my hair was greasy. Or at least it had been. It was quite a shock to reach up and try to run my fingers through my hair only to find I had none left. Regardless, I still needed a shower. 

            Five minutes later, I was out and dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a lavender sweatshirt to guard against the arctic chill blasting from the Air Conditioner. Next, I began clearing of the kitchen table and the living room. Mom and I rarely ate at home due to our hectic schedules. Food for me counted as the twenty Mom left on the counter every morning to cover my nutritional needs for the day. Generally, the fridge was only stocked with cheese, ice cream, and leftover takeout from me ordering in. 

            I began searching the cabinets for place mates, silverware, and the nice plates that we rarely ever used. Come to think of it, the last time we had used those plates was before dad died. It was kind of sad to think about it but I couldn't help but smile as I set the pretty blue plates on trays with placemats, cloth napkins, silverware, and nice crystal tumblers. I decided I'd start cleaning the cabinets out soon. The house needed a good cleaning and neither mom nor I usually took the time to do it. 

            As I was changing the ice pack I had strapped onto my head, the doorbell rang.             

            "Coming!" I shouted, scurrying through the living room and into the foyer to answer the door. When I opened the massive front doors, I saw David standing there with two big bags of takeout. 

            "I come bearing gifts, Milady," he said wearing a silly grin on his face. 

            I giggled slightly. "Come on in and make yourself at home," I replied. "It's a bit messy but we've got two busy women with no time to clean in this house." 

            "I understand," he replied. "It can't be as bad as my apartment."

            I smiled as I stepped out of his way. "Where's the kitchen?" he asked. 

            "Through the living room," I told him, shutting the door before following him. He set the food on the counter and began taking the containers out of the bags. I saw a mix of containers from various take out places around town. It was an awful lot of food for just two people. 

            "How many people do you think are eating this meal?" I asked. 

            "Two," he replied. "I'm stocking you up with food for a while. I kind of figured you weren't the type to cook much." 

            I grinned. "You assumed correctly," I replied. "I usually get takeout." 

            "What do you feel like eating?" he asked. "I got Italian, Chinese, vegetarian, and plenty of fried food." 

            "What have you got in the way of fried food?" I questioned, peering into the bag. 

            "French fries, shrimp, and fried flounder," he informed me. "I was kind of hoping you eat fish." 

            "I do," she assured him. "Lets eat the fried stuff. It's no good reheated." 

            "Okay," he agreed. "I'll put it on the plates while you pour us something to drink." 

            "Do you want to watch a movie or something while we eat?" I asked. "Or would you rather eat at the table?"

            "A movie sounds good to me as long as you have things other than chick flicks," he answered. 

            "Cool," I said. "Is Happy Gilmore okay?" 

            "Definitely," he replied. "You go put it in. I'll bring the trays in." 

            I knelt down in front of the TV and began fiddling with the knobs of the fancy surround sound system mom had blown a thousand bucks on. It was pointless in my opinion. Neither of us was home very often and didn't need such a fancy entertainment system. After fiddling with it and shoving the tape into the VCR, I settled back on the squashy blue couch with David. After dimming the lights and grabbing a fresh ice pack, I pressed the play button on the remote and settled back to watch the movie and eat dinner. 

            For a while, it was rather distracting to be sitting next to the person I was falling for while icy water dripped slowly down my back but eventually, my day started catching up with me. My eyelids began to droop closed and the last thing I remember was David's arm going around my shoulders, pulling me closer. 

********************************************************************************************

            I woke up to David's warm embrace in the morning. We'd both fallen asleep on the couch. I glanced over at him seeing he was still sound asleep. I snuggled closer into his chest, knowing I shouldn't be but doing it anyway. The blue afghan was pulled over our legs, probably by him before we fell asleep. It felt so nice to have his arms wrapped around my waist.  

            "Fern?" he whispered in my ear. "Fern, you need to wake up. We fell asleep on the couch." 

            I groaned. 

            "Come on," he said, rubbing my arm gently. 

            I opened my eyes and turned to look at him. A gentle smile played across his lips. 

            "G'morning," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes a bit and blinking in the sunshine. "What time is it?" 

            "A little before nine," he told me. "We need to get up. I have to go home and get changed before I go to work." 

            I sat up and got off the couch, stretching all the kinks out of my muscles. The back of my shirt was wet, as was David's chest. Walking into the kitchen, I turned on one of the few kitchen appliances my mom and I actually used: the coffee maker. He stretched and began clearing the plates off the coffee table.  

            "You don't have to do that," I told him. 

            "Yes I do," he replied. "I need something to do while I wait for a cup of coffee." 

            I smiled and began scraping the plates into the trash while he placed them in the dishwasher. Reaching up into the cabinet, I grabbed two stoneware mugs and poured each of us a cup of coffee. I handed him his. "Sugar is in bowl on the countertop and creamer is in the fridge. I have to get dressed and call Mr. Harvey." 

            "Okay," he replied. "Thanks Fern. I had a good time. I'll call you later." 

            "Bye," I told him as I walked up the stairs. 

********************************************************************************************

            "Jeez Fern," Mr. Harvey said as I climbed into his car later that afternoon. "You said you cut your hair because of the laceration but I didn't think you meant a crew cut." 

            I smiled ruefully. "I kind of had to," I explained. "Which reminds me, I need you to take me to the hospital this afternoon so I can get it stitched up. It was too swollen last night to stitch it." 

            "Okay," he replied. "Before or after your lesson?" 

            "After," I told him. "I'm putting it off." 

            "You shouldn't do that," he told me.

            "Maybe so," I said. 

            He grinned as he backed out of my driveway. "SO how do you like him?" 

            "Who?" I asked, frowning slightly. 

            "David, of course," he replied. 

            I blushed. "I… I… I like him. A lot." 

            "And judging by that blush, as more than a teacher," he said, grinning like a cat who ate a particularly large and delicious canary. "Don't worry, I won't tell." 

            Knowing I would make it worse by denying it, I chose not to fight. "Is it really that obvious?" 

            "You're falling for him Fern," he replied. "You're like an open book." He sighed. "I just hope you don't get hurt." 

********************************************************************************************

            As I drove away from Fern's house that morning, I knew the real reason why I had left in such a hurry. If I hadn't left, I would've stayed all day until she kicked me out. At that time, I was beginning to hate myself. Of course I would fall for the one person I absolutely could not have. She was a student for god's sake! My student. I wanted her to just grow up overnight and suddenly be turning 20 instead of 16. 

            I shook my head. It was crazy. There was not a chance in hell that I was falling for a student more than six years younger than me! I wanted her to just be another student, an incredibly gifted student but still just a student. 

            "You're fighting a losing battle here," I told my steering wheel as I waited at the light outside my apartment building. I sighed. How could I let myself fall for a tenth grader? Unfortunately, I knew I was falling hard and there was nothing I could do about it. 

            After a brief shower and a change of clothes, I was on my way to the school. When I got there, I heard voices coming from my office, voices and laughter. 

            "Okay, okay, no more fooling around Fern," I heard Robbie say. 

            I heard a brief note from a French horn before Fern erupted into giggles. I had forgotten that the office was still his until the end of the week. I decided to simply work on things inside the band room until the lesson was over. Unfortunately, my plan of pretending not to be there was shattered when I dropped one of the massive stacks of music I had been sorting through. 

            "Who's out there?" Robbie called. 

            "Just David," I replied, leaning over to pick up the mess. 

            "Hey David," he replied. "We'll be out of your office soon." 

            "Okay thanks," I replied, picking up the music I dropped. 

            The music resumed and Fern's giggles finally subsided. She was playing a difficult solo, something I was shocked to hear anyone play. It was extremely technical and required great range leaps and dynamic contrast. She was playing extremely well but every so often, she stopped and went back over a section, making it even better. I was almost sad to hear her finish after another fifteen minutes. 

            "Great Job today," Mr. Harvey told her. "You were a little off on that one section though." 

            "I know," I heard her reply. She sighed. "I wish I could just do it perfect all the time." 

            "You're doing awesome, Fern," Mr. Harvey told her. "In fact…" I heard him hesitate and then sigh. 

            "What?" she asked. I could hear the concern in her voice. 

            "In fact," he said. "I can't really teach you any more. You've progressed beyond the level that I can teach you. You need to continue taking lessons but I want you to start taking them in Baltimore. I will drive you there, I will pay for your lessons, I just know that you need to do this if you want to be the best." 

            She gulped. "W-would you mind if I thought on it a little bit?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. 

            "Of course," he answered kindly. "Take all summer if you want to but just really think hard, Fern. This is your future."

            "I understand. This is just an awful lot to deal with right now," she said. 

            I could almost hear him put his arm around her shoulder. "I'm not leaving you. It's just going to be a bit harder to see each other. You're like a daughter to me Fern. I could never leave you." 

            "And you're like a father to me," she told him. 

            "That makes me feel good to hear you say that," he told her. They were silent for a second but I could almost hear the tears sliding down their faces. "Well, Fern. Let's let David do his work and get your head stitched up." 

            "Okay," she agreed. A second later they stepped out of my office. 

            "She's all yours," Robbie told me. 

            "See you later David," Fern told me. 

********************************************************************************************

            "Ouch," I said as Dr. Gupta stuck a needle in my scalp to numb I while he stitched. 

            "You'll be glad in a minute," he replied. "Let's get started. This is a big gash, it'll take a while." 

            "How many?" I asked. 

            "Twenty or twenty-five," he replied. "Why don't you lay down on your stomach on the table? You'll be more comfortable." 

            I complied with his request and waited for half an hour to stitch up my scalp. 

            "Ice cream?" Mr. Harvey asked as we walked out of the hospital an hour later after picking up some prescription pain pills and making small talk with some of the nurses I knew. 

            "Sure," I replied. "PK?" 

            "Where else?" he asked. 

            PK, short for pizza king, had a 60's style ice cream counter with all kinds of ice cream and milk shakes. As we drove, I was still thinking about how he had called me his daughter. That meant a lot to me because it felt nice to have a father again. Maybe he wasn't my real father but he might as well have been. 

            "Fern?" he said as I was digging into my banana split at the ice cream counter.

            I looked up at him. 

            "I-I know you've probably heard all this stuff at school and from you mom but I kind of feel obligated to…" he stopped. 

            I frowned, not sure what he was talking about. Suddenly, it dawned on me. "Oh!" I exclaimed. "I've never…" 

            "Fern, you're sixteen," he said. "I know you think about this stuff, especially since you now have a bit of a crush on David. And I do believe the feeling is mutual but he's older than you and older guys want different things. Just… tell me you'll be careful." 

            I nodded. "I promise. I've lasted this long with my virginity intact, I think I can last a little while longer." 

            He nodded and squeezed my shoulder. "Good." 

********************************************************************************************

            There you are!" my mother exclaimed. "Where have you been?" 

            "I had a French horn lesson, had my head stitched up, picked up a prescription, and went out for ice cream," I told her. "I'm sorry I forgot to leave a note." 

            Mr. Harvey had just taken me home and yet I was still hungry after the banana split. I began rummaging in the fridge to find the carton of egg rolls left over from the pervious night. 

            "I was worried," she continued. "For all I knew, you could have been kidnapped." 

            I rolled my eyes. "I'm a big girl, mom. Why don't you go get in bed while I go make you some tea? I plan on cleaning this afternoon." 

            "Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?" she asked, jokingly. 

            I smiled wryly. "The house is a mess, you have to admit. I'm sick of it so I want to clean. Okay? Go upstairs and I'll get you that tea." 

            I went into the kitchen without waiting for a reply. Despite her incredible IQ, high-paying job, and the fact that she was 22 years older than me, I felt as if I was the parent sometimes. The cleaning was a prime example. As a teenager, I was supposed to make messes and expect people to clean up after me but she was an adult without an excuse. 

            As I set about making tea for her, I couldn't help but think of how things were before my dad died. The house was always clean, mom worked less, and things seemed simpler, less complex. Maybe it was just because I was younger and didn't really know about everything around me but it was so much easier back then, before the storm hit and everything changed.

            "Fern?" my mom said softly when I brought her the cup of tea.

            "Yeah?" I replied. 

            "Don't ever change, Sweetheart," she told me. "You're perfect the way you are." 

********************************************************************************************

Author's Notes:

I have decided simply to not mark any changed in POV. They should be simple enough to figure out. 

Tsunami Wave: Thanks so much… That's why I love marching band fiction so much… people just understand and accept that I live and breathe for band

SkysTheLimit: *Hugs Sarah* Bestest Buddy! You know I love you! You'll be the first to see chapter four.

Copsey: If only all guys were like David, right? And thanks for the compliment. It really feels good when people tell me that. 

Blue Oyster Cult: I do know the pairing is slightly creepy but I kind of wanted it to be. Thanks for saying you'll keep reading anyway!

Serene Hope: Thanks for the review… I'm glad you like it and I do plan on updating as frequently as possible with the size of the chapters I've come to prefer for this story.


	4. IV

            I had just finished cleaning my room when the phone rang. 

            "Hello?" I answered. 

            "Hey Fern." 

            It was my best friend Serena. She was a band geek like myself only not quite as hardcore. She was a trumpet player and a fairly decent one at that. 

            "Hi Serena. What's up?" I asked, plopping down on my newly made bed. 

            "I haven't talked to you since summer started and I wanted to know what's up," she answered. "And I also know you've talked to Mr. Harvey since school ended so I wanted to get the scoop on the new band director." 

            "Have I got a few stories for you," I told her, stretching out on my bed, preparing for a long gab session. 

            "Do tell," she said. 

            "First off, I met the new band director," I told her. "His name is David Dempsey. He's really cute and nice and he was a French horn player when he was in school. He's really cool and he's got some special stuff planned for this year."

            "Sounds like you like him," she replied. "What else have you got to tell me?" 

            I told her about falling down the stairs and having to cut off all my hair. 

            "Oh god!" she said. "You have a crew cut now?" 

            "I'm afraid so," I answered grimly. "It should grow a bit in the three months before school starts though." 

            "A little, I guess," she replied. "So…" she began. "Have you talked to Jason at all lately?" 

            I could almost hear her grinning impishly on the other end of the phone. Jason had had a crush on me since we were in eighth grade. He was a good friend to me but I didn't think of him the same way he thought of me. 

            "No," I told her. "I'm leaving my options open for the summer though. I doubt anything will happen but maybe." 

            "It's about time," she said. "We need to get ourselves a pair of boyfriends. We're going into tenth grade and neither of us have been kissed unless you count the little pecks each of us has gotten from spin the bottle and truth or dare." 

            "I guess," I resigned. Serena was very passionate about us needing boyfriends. For me, boys were more of a nice thing to gossip about at sleepovers than anything else. Serena, however, desperately wanted to be in a relationship. 

            "Do you want to go to the pool later?" she questioned. 

            "No, not today," I told her. "I'm cleaning the house." 

            I heard her gasp. "Alexandria Fern Scott cleaning? I never thought I'd see the day when that happened," she joked. 

            "Oh shut up," I told her. "Listen, just call me later and we'll make plans for tomorrow. See you." 

            "Bye Fern," she said. 

            I hung up the phone and continued to wipe all the dust of my dresser. The last time I had dusted my dresser had been when nearly two years prior when I redecorated my room. I had painted the walls pale blue with a crisp white trim and a purple ceiling decorated with silver stars. Glass front bookshelves held all my books, music, my TV, and my stereo. On my overly large desk was the Gateway desktop that I had turned into the ultimate multimedia center. Beside the desk was a filing cabinet filled with old school papers and on top of that was my laptop in its case. My room had more space than I would ever need, being the size of a one-car garage. I also knew I was spoiled rotten with all my fancy electronics and more clothes in name brands than I would ever need but to me, it was my life. Dad had been the first French horn in a world-renowned orchestra before retiring to a teaching position when I was born and God knew mom was a workaholic so we had never had any money problems. 

            As I hung up the pile of clean clothes lying on my armchair, I realized that even though mom was hardly a candidate for mother of the year, she did try. Although the long hours she put in at the hospital were hardly ideal for us to bond, she was doing the best she could to make sure we could always afford what we needed and more. 

            "Fern?" 

            I turned to see my mom standing behind me, rubbing her eyes sleepily. 

            "Yeah?" I asked. 

            "I'm sorry I forgot to tell you earlier but some guy called for you while you were out. David, I think was his name. He wants you to call him. His number is by the phone," she told me. 

            My heart pounded but I didn't let it on to my mom. "Okay thanks," I replied. 

            She smiled tiredly. "Now I'm going back to bed. There's a twenty on the counter in case I sleep through dinner." 

            I nodded and waited for her to go back to bed before rushing downstairs to get David's phone number. After I dialed, he answered on the first ring. 

            "Hey Fern," he greeted me. 

            "Hi David," I replied. "How'd you know it was me?" 

            "You're the only person I gave my new number," he answered. 

            "Oh," I replied. 

            I could almost hear him smile that glowing smile of his over the phone. "Listen," he said. "I was hoping I could beg a favor from you." 

            "Sure," I answered. "Ask away." 

            I could almost hear his glowing smile over the phone. "Since I just moved here, I was hoping you could help me move all of my stuff into my apartment tomorrow. We could go out for pizza afterward," he told me. 

            "That would be great. What time will you pick me up?" I asked. 

            "One o'clock?" he asked. 

            "Sounds good," I replied. "That should make Serena happy…" I thought aloud.

            "Excuse me?" he asked. 

            "Oh sorry, just thinking aloud," I explained. "Serena is my best friend. She wants me to go to the pool with her tomorrow morning." 

            "Oh, okay," he replied.

            "So tomorrow at one o'clock?" I asked one last time. 

            "Yup," he confirmed. "See you tomorrow Fern." 

            "Bye," I said, hanging up the phone and picking up the dust cloth. As I finished dusting and vacuuming my room, the phone rang again. "Hello?" 

            "Hey, It's me again," Serena said. 

            "Is tomorrow morning okay for the pool? I made plans for the afternoon," I told her. 

            "Sure," she said. "I was just about to ask. I'll pick you up at ten, okay?" 

            "Sure Serena," I replied. "Talk to you tomorrow." 

            "Bye Fern." 

********************************************************************************************

            I took care selecting the black bikini and shorts I threw on over top. I knew Serena would be critical about what I wore to the pool, especially since I knew she would invite Jason as well. Serena was six months older than me and could drive already. 

            "So, Fern, I hope you don't mind but I..." 

            "Invited Jason," I finished. "I knew you would." 

            She grinned brightly. "You know me all too well." 

            People always mistook Serena and I for sisters. It wasn't even because we looked alike. Sure, we shared the same naturally dark wavy hair but she highlighted hers and I flat-ironed mine. Our faces were the same heart shape but her skin was golden while mine was rosy-fair. Her eyes were crystalline blue like a sunny sky while mine were hazel, tinged green. She was taller than me with long, graceful legs while I had short legs and a long torso. While we were both slender after years of dieting and exercising together, she had a small butt and broad shoulders with a nice pair of B-cups. I however had been cursed with an hourglass shaped figure and boobs the size of bowling balls. While guys often fixated on my chest, I hated them because if the back problems they caused me. No, our looks weren't the reason people thought we were sisters. It had more to do with the fact that we were so close we were nearly attached at the hip. We finished each other's sentences and often dressed the same way as well. 

            "You two really ought to be dating," she said. 

            "And you ought to be with Dennis," I pointed out. "I know you two like each other." 

            "But he's going back to Germany after sophomore year," she said with a sigh. "I don't know, maybe." 

            We sat in silence before we pulled into a space at our pool, SSA, and got out. While Serena signed us both in, I claimed two lounge chairs and laid our stuff out. Serena plunked down next to me and started rubbing suntan oil into her legs. She looked over at me and smiled. "The whole crew-cut thing looks kind of cute actually. You can pull off short hair." She flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder. "I, on the other hand, could never get away with hair so short." 

            "You could," I reasoned. "We have the same face shape." I glanced around the sunny pool deck and suddenly spotted Jason on the diving board. I waved and smiled at him. "Hey Jason!" 

            He waved back before catapulting off the board in a perfect high dive. Serena grinned at me. "He's showing off for you." 

            I laughed slightly as Jason walked toward us, wiping the water off his face with a towel. 

            "Hey Fern," he greeted me. "I like your hair cut." 

            "Thanks," I said with a coy smile. "So how's your break going so far?" 

            "Better now that you're here," he said with a smile. 

            "That's sweet," I told him. "But seriously." 

            He sat down on the end of my chair. "I am serious," he said. "Fern, would you like to go out for pizza later?"

            I loved his smile. It was too bad I had to urn him down. "Sorry, I have plans," I told him. "Tomorrow after swim team, before the band banquet?" 

            "Okay," he agreed. He grabbed my hand and gently tugged me to my feet. 

            "What are you doing?" I asked. 

            "Come on," he pulled me forward. "Let's swim." 

            "But, Jason, my stitches," I reminded him. "I can't—whoa!"

            He had seized me around the waist and threw me in the pool before jumping in himself. I laughed so hard as he threw me in. Sure, the chlorinated water stung the raw section of my scalp but it was still funny. Jason looked into my eyes and I was suddenly conscious that his arm was still around my waist. Smile lines surrounded his bright blue eyes and I couldn't help but stare. It was like a spell where I couldn't stop staring at him. 

            "Fern! Jason!" someone shouted. 

            As I looked over to see who called us, the enchantment between us was broken and I was glad. I was definitely attracted to him but I knew I didn't really like him. He was too immature for me and I couldn't see myself with someone who liked sports more than band. As I saw him gazing at me affectionately out of the corner of my eye, I knew I was in for a long, complicated summer. 

********************************************************************************************

            David grinned as I slid into the car next to him. I still smelled faintly of chlorine, suntan oil, and sunshine from the pool and my hair was still damp. "You look cute," he said. 

            "Thanks but not really," I said. "My hair is even shorter than yours." 

            He smiled. "It still looks cute."

            I grinned back as I buckled my seatbelt. "Thanks," I said. "So where is it you live again?" 

            "Country View Apartments," he told me. "The rent was cheap and the apartment was pretty nice. I haven't unpacked anything since most of my stuff got here yesterday though." 

            "Sounds like the typical male persona," I said. "Never likes to clean or get organized." 

            He laughed. "Hey, you are in the presence of the male who will soon be feeding you, remember," he told me. 

            "True," I replied. "But no one but the most hardened person can refuse my cute innocent face." 

            "And that face is…" he asked.

            I made my cute pouty, puppy-dog face that no one had ever been able to refuse. 

            "You're right," he said. "There is no way I could ever refuse you, especially with that face."

            I smiled. "I knew it." 

            "Here we are," David said as we pulled into a parking space in front of the whitewashed building that was the apartment complex. Fenced in balconies looked out over the parking lot and the building that held the gym and pool. 

            "What floor are you on?" I asked. 

            "Fifth floor," he said. "I like the view from the top."

            "Please tell me there's an elevator," I said. "That or you already hauled everything upstairs." 

            "There's an elevator," he told me. "And almost all of the boxes are upstairs. There are two in the trunk that we need to haul up though." 

            "Okay," I said. "Pop it open." 

            We each grabbed a box out of the trunk and carried it into the building and into the elevator. An older woman was in the elevator with us and she smiled at us. 

            "Just moving in?" she asked. "Is it your first home together? How long have you been together?" 

            "It's his apartment, not mine," I told her. "And we're not together." 

            "Oh," she replied, taken aback. "You just seem so…" 

            "It's fine," David assured her. "I understand why you assumed." 

            She nodded and the doors slid open on the fifth floor. We stepped out and down the hall. "So which one is yours?" I asked. 

            "5C," He replied. He set his box on the floor and took his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door. Once inside, I took a look around. The walls of the main room were painted green and were completely bare. Ugly sand colored carpet cover the floor of the medium sized living room. Off the living room was a small kitchen with new stainless steel appliances, blue walls, and worn down linoleum. A short hallway led to the master bedroom, the bathroom, and a smaller room that could be used as an office or spare bedroom. Several boxes were placed in each room, waiting for us to unpack them. "These two boxes go in the bedroom," he told me. 

            "Okay," I replied. "Why don't we start there?" 

            He nodded and we walked down the short hall and into his bedroom. His bed had already been assembled and shoved against a wall but the mattress was bare, save one blanket and nothing else filled the room. "Start wherever you like," he told me. 

            I nodded and ripped open the largest box I saw. It contained a dresser. "Do you want to save the boxes?" 

            He shook his head. "Rip 'em to pieces if you need to." 

            "Cool," I replied, tearing a huge chunk of cardboard from the box and sliding the dresser across the hideous carpet. "Where do you want it?" I grunted as I shoved it across the room. 

            "Um… you decide," he told me.

            "Okay," I replied, shoving it up against the wall, next to the door and across from the bed. Then I started taking the accessories out of boxes. After setting two lamps on the dresser, hanging up a mirror, and setting a few wooden boxes on the dresser, I continued to the rest of the boxes. 

            Forty-five minutes later, we had finished with the bedroom and the closet and moved on to the living room and kitchen. 

            "Even a guy can set up a living room," I told him. "But it takes a woman to understand the fine art of setting up a kitchen." 

            He laughed so hard at that, his face was turning red. "Okay," he said between bursts of laughter. "You do the kitchen while I set up the living room."  

            "Okay, but no accidents," he told me. 

            "Okay, David." 

********************************************************************************************

            Later, David and I were sitting on the couch in his new living room, scarfing down slices of cheese pizza and watching Drumline for the fiftieth time. 

            "I do believe we got a bit done today," I said, between my third and fourth slices. 

            "I'm apt to agree," he said. 

            Conversation ceased momentarily as Sean brought Devon's lack of music reading skills to light. 

            "This movie is so unrealistic," I said. "No one could ever get that far without knowing how to read music."

            "True," he replied. "But it's still interesting." 

            "Yeah," I admitted. "They never talk about French horns much though." 

            "I know," he replied. "It sucks." 

            "Agreed," I said, leaning back against the faded blue sofa to watch the movie. David's arm slid around my shoulders and we sat like that until the end of the movie. 

            "Come one," he said. "Let's get you home." 

            I glanced at the clock and realized it was ten o'clock at night. The time wasn't the thing that shocked me the most though, it was my reluctance to leave. 

            I had a feeling things were about to get even more complicated. 

********************************************************************************************

More stage-setting than anything else in this chapter. Don't throw eggs at me for hardly mentioning band at all! Just wait until next chapter which will discuss the band banquet!

Special Thanks to my new beta reader JacenS. Thanks a million times over! 

Blue oyster cult: Gotta say I feel the same way. *shudders* That would certainly be weird. As for school starting…. I haven't decided honestly :-P I'm kind of playing this by ear (despite the fact that I already outlined the sequel) 

JacenS: You are correct in your assumptions…. *evil laugh (think Mr. Burns)*

Skys the Limit: Shhh! I've told you way too much already about what happens in this story. Love ya like a sister!

Bandgeek0003: I hope it was to your liking… Chapter five will be particularly interesting. (It's already halfway done, I'm thinking I'll have it done by Wednesday but don't hold your breath)

Copsey: Thanks a bunch… I'm having fun a lot of fun working out the chemistry between the characters. 

Chelsea: I'm glad you like it… Chapters will probably be a bit more frequent since football season is over for me *tears in eyes* I have nothing better to do with my Friday nights now.

Tsunami Wave: She's not dying… just getting involved in a romance with her band director. Kind of creepy, I know but, well…. You're lucky. Our drum major is female, our oboe player is female, and I am the only French horn. *sigh* Gotta hate being the solo French horn when you're so scared, you're shaking and you're the only one playing. 


	5. V

            The end of the year band banquet was a time-honored tradition for the Seaford High School band. At this gathering, awards are handed out, a formal sit-down dinner is served, and we dance into the wee hours of the morning. By tradition, it was also semi-formal, forcing me to go shopping with Serena, Lindsey, and Kate after meeting Jason for pizza. 

            "I can't believe you put it off this long, Fern," Kate chastised me. "You've known for three weeks when the banquet was." 

            "It kind of slipped my mind," I admitted. "I've had other stuff to think about." 

            Lindsey rolled her eyes. "I know. You only think about band most of the time."

            "Not true!" I replied. 

            All three of them gave me a look that made me burst out laughing. Yeah, their comment was definitely true. Band dominated just about every aspect of my life. 

            "Where to first?" I asked. 

            "DEB," Serena replied. "They have good dresses, especially for people like you." 

            "What do you mean people like me?" I questioned, furrowing my brow slightly. 

            "People with a disgustingly perfect figure," Lindsey said. 

            "I do not have a perfect figure," I argued. "My hips are too wide and my boobs are the size of bowling balls." 

            "Yeah, and guys like that," Kate reminded me. "Come on. Let's find you something to wear." 

            Even though I wasn't much of a clothes shopper, even I couldn't help but get into the spirit of shopping and had fun. After only ten minutes in the store, I had five dresses to try on. 

            And that was only what I had picked out. 

            "Here," Serena said, shoving two more dresses at me. "Kate and Lindsey have more as well." 

            "But I only need one dress," I reminded her. "And I have five to try on already."

            "Yeah but sometimes you don't have the best taste," she told me. 

            I shot her a dirty look. 

            "I was kidding! Now go into the dressing room and try them on so we can go find shoes and jewelry to match and go to the salon to see if anyone there has ideas on what to do with your hair so it's a bit less of a crew cut," Serena said. 

            I walked into the dressing room and stripped to try on the dresses. The first eight dresses were nothing to write home about but then it came down to the last three, all of which were beautiful on me. 

            The first dress was solid black jersey knit. It was cut halter style, tying behind my neck and the A-line hem falling a few inches below my knees. Embroidered around the empire waist was a design of hibiscus flowers and leaves. 

            "Did you die in there Fern?" Kate called. 

            "No, hold on a second," I replied, unlocking the door. 

            "God, Fern," was all Lindsey said. 

            I smiled. "I have two more to try on though, hold off a second." 

            I ducked back into the stall and picked up the next dress. This one was royal blue and sleeveless with a cowl neck draping to show off my cleavage. The skirt ended at my knees in an asymmetrical hemline, making my legs seem longer. 

            "Pretty," Serena said. "I liked the other one better though." 

            "So did I," I replied. "But there's still one more." 

            The last dress was pink. While I normally though pink was a bit to girly for me, this one was different. The dress was ultra feminine, made of pink satin with lace panels in the skirt and delicate beaded straps. The cowl neckline draped slightly showing off my cleavage, much like the blue dress. 

            "Come on Fern! Show us the last dress so we can tell you which one to get!" Lindsey said. 

            I opened the door and showed them how I looked. 

            "That one," Serena said. "Who picked it out?" 

            "I did," I told her. 

            She nodded. "You did well," she told me. "Now come on. Get dressed so you can pay for it and go spend more money on shoes and jewelry." 

            I laughed before returning to the dressing room and changing back into my denim shorts and green tee-shirt and going up to the counter to pay for my dress. After paying for my dress, I let my three best friends drag me to Claire's to buy jewelry and accessories, Sephora to get makeup, Trade Secret to consult with a stylist, and Payless for shoes. As much as I longed to get home to practice my French horn before I headed off to the banquet, I still had to admit that I had fun. 

            "See you later Fern!" Serena said as she pulled out of my driveway. 

            I waved before walking into the house and upstairs to my room to get in an hour of practice before I got ready for the banquet. My chromatic scales needed work if I was going to try out for senior All-state band, as did the solos. I played through a piece in my sight-reading folder called "Beyond all Imagination" and went over the solos so much, I would never forget them before calling it quits and hopping into the shower. I had an hour and a half to get ready, more time than I really needed but I always felt the deepest urgency to be ready early. 

            I showered, washing my hair while carefully avoiding the stitches. After using the rose and lavender scented lotion Serena had gotten me for Christmas into my skin, I started on my hair. The stylist had given me a special gel. It had tiny flecks of silver glitter in it and was said to make my hair shiny and appear longer although when I rubbed it into my hair, it didn't look any longer. 

            "Fern?" 

            I turned to see my mother in the bathroom doorway. 

            "Are you going somewhere?" she asked. 

            "The band banquet is tonight. Don't worry, Serena is giving me a ride," I told her. 

            She nodded. "Tim just called in sick so I'm going to work his shift." 

            I nodded. "Okay mom. I'll see you…" 

            "Tomorrow afternoon," she said. 

            I nodded again. "I love you." 

            "I love you too, sweetheart. Have fun," she said. 

            Mom left and I began putting on all my make-up. I dusted rosy blusher over my cheeks, silvery white and pink eye shadow on my eyelids, tons of black mascara on my lashes, and pink lip gloss. Afterward, I got dressed and put on the jewelry I had gotten. Dangly silver and rhinestone drop earring dangled from my ears and a silver necklace with beads of crystal, pearl, and rose quartz on it went around my neck. After sliding on a pair of low-heeled white sandals and slipping a few necessities in my purse, I was ready to go. Much to my surprise, it had taken almost all of the hour and a half I'd set aside to get ready. I smiled slightly as I waited for Serena to pick me up. This would be a night to remember.

********************************************************************************************

            I sat down at a table in the banquet hall and fiddled with my tie. I hated wearing suits but I knew they were a necessary evil for special occasions as well as work. I had come early because I was nervous. It was the night I was going to announced as the new band director. 

            And Fern would be there. 

            As I looked up to see the first people arriving, my jaw nearly hit the floor. It was Fern, looking completely gorgeous. She was wearing a pink dress and sandals that showed off her figure. It was all I could do to avoid some very naughty thoughts involving my student. When she saw me, a smile spread slowly over her features and she made a beeline for the chair next to me. 

********************************************************************************************

            "Hey David," I greeted him as I sat down on the chair next to him. 

            "Hi Fern," he replied. "You look… um… you looking amazing." 

            I shifted a bit in my seat. 

            "Thanks," I said. "You don't look half bad yourself. I love the tie by the way." 

            His tie was covered with pictures of French horns and little music notes. 

            He smiled. "I've got to show my French horn pride," he told me. "Where are you displaying yours?" 

            "It's a bit hard when you're dressed to the nines," I said. "And female." 

            "True," he admitted. "So how has your day been?" 

            "Pretty good. I spent most of the day at the mall with some friends and then I practiced a bit before getting ready to come here," I told him. "You?"

            "I sat around all day and watched marching band videos," he confessed. 

            I smiled. "Sounds like fun though. I've watched all mine so many times it's pointless to watch it again because I know all the songs and routines." 

            "Now tell me, Fern, do you prefer marching or concert band?" he asked. 

            "Probably concert," I admitted. "I love marching but concert is where I get to shine." 

            "I know how you feel. French horn is definitely a concert instrument," he said. "It's a bit intimidating to be prancing around on a field carrying a hunk of metal worth several thousand dollars." 

            I nodded. "It's too pretty to march with." 

            He laughed. "True, true." 

            "God Ferny, you sure clean up nice." 

            I looked over to see Mr. Harvey standing behind us as we talked. 

            "Thanks," I told him. "You like it?" 

            "Very much so. Now you just need a nice big overcoat so all the boys won't be looking," he told me. 

            "Okay Dad," I told him only half joking. 

            He smiled at my use of the word dad. It was true; really, he was just like a stand-in dad for me. I could see tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. 

            "Thanks Fern," he told me softly. 

            "It's true," I told him. 

            "It feels like it," he said. After giving me a quick hug, he headed off to the door to greet people as they arrived. 

            "You two are obviously pretty close," David said. 

            I nodded. "Yeah, we certainly are," I said. "He's like a father to me a lot of the time, especially after my real Dad died." 

            "Yeah," he said. 

            I looked over at the doorway and watched as some of my friends walk in, including Jason. Jason, Cat, Liza, and Patrick walked over to the table and sat down. 

            "Wow, Fern, you look great," Jason said as he slid into the seat next to me. 

            "Thanks," I replied. 

            "You look a bit cold though," he continued, slipping an arm around my shoulders. "This ought to help." 

********************************************************************************************

            The competition. I saw him with his arm around the object of my affections. Him and his pretty-boy blonde hair and blue eyes, looking like the newest Calvin Klein model. 

            Okay, I was jealous. 

            It hurt to see him with his arm around her shoulders, smiling and laughing while they talked, completely ignoring me. At first I thought Fern was enjoying it. Then I began noticing how she kept shifting ever so slightly away from him. She was uncomfortable and when she got a second, she turned her head and met my eyes with a pleading look that clearly said, "Help me!" 

            "Fern?" I asked, thinking fast. "Can you help me get something out of my car?" 

            "Sure," she replied, standing up and following me out of the hall. "Thank you so much!!" she told me as we walked outside. 

            "Not a problem," I told her. "So… er… are you and that boy an item?" 

            "Hell no!" she exclaimed. "He's liked me since 8th grade but he's just a friend." 

            "Oh," I replied. 

            She smiled slightly. "He's nice but he's not my type. He's too…. Percussionist personality type." 

            I laughed at this. I knew exactly what she was talking about. Percussionists tended to be cocky and a bit on the dim side but athletic, more or less like a football player. (A/N: I am NOT [I repeat **NOT!!!**] making fun of percussionists. I am not saying all percussionists are like this but this is my experience with them at my school. The percussionists at my school are weed addicts too but that's another story.)

            "Is there really something you need my help with?" she asked. 

            "No," I admitted. "Just pretend I left it at home, okay?" 

            "Deal," she said. "Would you mind switching seats with me? I'd rather not sit next to Jason if he's going to be all over me."

            "Sure," I told her. "Come on, let's get back inside." Slightly hesitantly, I reached for her hand as we walked in and intertwined our fingers. She responded by walking a bit closer to me. It felt wonderful to walk like that, as if she were mine. 

            Too bad she couldn't be. 

            I mentally cursed myself for starting the whole sequence. She was a student for god's sake and I couldn't pretend that she wasn't. 

            But it felt right to me and the look on her face told me she liked it as well. 

            And that's why things were so damn complicated. 

********************************************************************************************

            Mr. Harvey definitely spoiled me rotten. For dinner, instead if sending me a salad like caterers normal supplied for vegetarian fare, he ordered fish for me. Salmon to be exact, good salmon while everyone else had chicken and rice. 

            After the cake and ice cream was over, I knew what came next: awards. The band council for the next year would be announced, section leaders would receive their titles and duties, and the seniors would get their honors. This was the best part of the banquet because it meant I was officially a sophomore band member once the seniors were officially out of the band. 

            Mr. Harvey stepped up to the podium. 

            "Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I trust that dinner was satisfactory," he began. After rousing cheers, he continued. "Before I make my customary speech about trying your best and congratulations on making it through the year, I have an announcement to make. As most of you know, I have taken a position in a school upstate. The person I have hired to replace me is more than qualified to take over. Mr. Dempsey, please stand for a round of applause." 

            David stood and waved to the crowd while they all clapped. 

            "Now on to what you guys are really here for: the awards. First up is section leaders for next year," he continued. "Please come up when I call your name. First, for flutes we have Tammy Price and Tara James. For clarinet, Lena Rosario and Elizabeth banks. For trumpets, Dakota Miller (A/N: I wonder if the person I named this character after will recognize themselves.) and Paisley Pierce. Trombone: Andrew Davies and Kelli Sampson. Baritone and Euphonium: Terrance Smith. Tuba: Liza Fisher. Saxophone: Joe Baxter and Caitlin Freeman. That includes tenor, alto, soprano, and baritone saxophone, by the way. Bassoon, oboe, bass clarinet, and alto clarinet: Richard Halls and Christine Gordon. Percussion: Scott Laws and Jason Smith. And last but not least, french horn: Fern Scott and Tawna May. Congratulations!" 

            I got out of my seat and walked to the front of the hall to receive my pin and special baldric for being section leader. Our band was one of the few in the area that distinguished section leaders from everyone else. Mr. Harvey gave me a hug before I went back and sat down. 

            "Congratulations," David whispered in my ear. 

            "Thanks," I said with a smile before listening to the next award being announced. 

            "Our next award is for the MVP," he said. "Now, the thing you have to understand about this award is that it isn't about playing favorites. Nor is it about seniority. The students choose this person themselves. This year, I am proud to announce the MVP is Fern Scott." 

            To say I was surprised would have been the understatement of the century. Being but a freshman French horn player, I had expected seniority to win out and one of the people who had graduated to win. 

            But it was my name that was called. 

            Dazed, I walked up to the podium and stood while I was presented with a trophy and a twenty-five dollar gift certificate to Salisbury Music. "You deserve it Fern," Mr. Harvey told me softly as he gave me another hug. "You have no idea how much you've done for this band." 

            "Thanks," I told him. 

            He smiled at me briefly before I went to sit down and listen to all the senior awards that were being given out. I would miss all twenty of the seniors that were leaving us, especially because they would be replaced by 35 incoming freshman that would have no idea what to do. I realized what it was like to be an upperclassman right then and there. Since I was good enough, I had been marching with the high school band since I was in seventh grade and was the equivalent of a junior in experience. 

            I already knew I was the new student director since I was the only one who wanted the job. However, it was still nice to hear it announced and receive my baton. After all the band council was announced, it was time for dancing. 

            "You aren't going to dance?" David asked. 

            "Not yet," I said. "My shoes aren't made for dancing." 

            "Ah," he replied. "So what exactly does student conductor mean?" 

            "It means I pick a song I want the band to play and I do the conducting in rehearsal and concert for the piece I select," I informed him. 

            "Oh," he said. "Sounds fun." 

            "And you have to teach me to conduct properly," I continued. 

            "That shouldn't be a problem," he said. 

            "Good," I replied. Out the corner of my eye, I saw Jason standing nearby, looking as if he was seconds away from asking me to dance. He was nice and all, but I didn't like to dance, especially with guys I don't like. "Oh god." 

            "What?" David asked, a bit confused. 

            "Jason," I said. 

            He looked over at the approaching figure. "And?" 

            "He's going to ask me to dance! I don't want to dance with him!" I said. 

            "Come on then," David said. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet and out onto the dance floor. 

            "No David," I said. "I can't dance." 

            "Anyone can dance," he said. He placed my right hand on his shoulder and took the left in his right. His left hand went on my waist. 

            "This is not the waltz," I reminded him. 

            "Who says it can't be?" he said. "It looks like the German guy and his date are waltzing." He gestured over to Serena and Dennis. 

            "He's German. Germans don't do things like we do," I said. 

            "Well why not be German?" he said before stepping off into a modified waltz. 

            I laughed and resisted a few steps before dancing with him around the room. Other couples stared at us but I was having too much fun to do anything about it. The song changed from the Evanescence hit that was playing to a slower song. My heart started hammering even harder in my chest, if that was even possible. Without hesitation, David's arms went around my waist. I wrapped my hands behind his head and laid my head on his shoulder as we swayed in time to the music. I could feel his heart thumping against his breastbone. I felt so at home wrapped up in his arms. If only I could've stayed there forever. The end of that one song had to be one of the saddest moments of my life. 

            The rest of the night passed quickly. Serena had left early with Dennis to see a movie so David offered to give me a lift home. 

            "I had a good time dancing tonight," I told him as we were driving home.

            "Me too," he said. 

            We sat in silence for a few minutes as he drove through the darkness to my house. Once we were parked outside my house, he put the car in park. 

            "Thanks for driving me home," I told him. 

            "It's not a problem," he murmured and before I even knew what was happening, his mouth was on mine in a single perfect kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 I'm too lazy for my usual notes. Cheers. I'll add them later. 


	6. VI

            "Oh god, oh god," I said, pacing my apartment after returning from the banquet. "I kissed a god damn student!"

            I was going to be in so much trouble if anyone from the school board found out. How would I face Fern knowing I was so attracted to her, I couldn't say good night without kissing her? Even if it was wrong, I had to admit I had enjoyed it and to be perfectly honest, I didn't feel guilty. Why did something so wrong feel so right? 

            "I really hate myself some days," I muttered, collapsing on the couch. I stood up and went to my liquor cabinet to pour myself a scotch. Sure, Fern wasn't in that bottle but maybe the stiff drink would help drown the confusion for a bit. 

******************************************************************************************************************************

            I could feel his lips on mine even though it had been hours since we had kissed. He kissed me! Sure, it had just been a chaste good night kiss but it was a kiss all the same. I felt like a cheerleader telling her friends about making out with the captain of the football team. Maybe I wasn't that far gone but I still was getting little fluttery feeling in my stomach. I was falling hard. 

            Deciding that standing around unable to get to sleep because I was so awake was useless, I logged onto the Internet and began chatting with my friends on AIM. 

StarrySerrygrl1320: Hey

FrenchhornFern: **Hiya**

StarrySerrygrl1320: Did you have fun after I left?

FrenchhornFern: **Oh yes. After u left, everyone rejoiced and the party really began. **

StarrySerrygrl1320: hardy har har

FrenchhornFern: **So how did things go with u and Dennis? **

StarrySerrygrl1320: Quite well, thanks

StarrySerrygrl1320: What about between you and Jason?

FrenchhornFern: **Don't change the subject. I want details.**

StarrySerrygrl1320: A lady doesn't kiss and tell

FrenchhornFern: **OMG!!!!! U kissed?????**

StarrySerrygrl1320: *smiles* yes….

FrenchhornFern: **OMG! That's so awesome! **

StarrySerrygrl1320: Ain't it? 

StarrySerrygrl1320: _Now tell me what happened between you and Jason_

FrenchhornFern: **There's nothing 2 tell**

StarrySerrygrl1320: _I don't believe you. Something happened. _

FrenchhornFern: **I don't like him that way. He's 2…. **

StarrySerrygrl1320: _2 what? Hot? Nice? Crazy about u? _

StarrySerrygrl1320: _Come on Fern, get with it_

FrenchhornFern: **I just don't like him that way. **

FrenchhornFern: **We aren't right 4 each other**

StarrySerrygrl1320: _*shakes head* Ur insane Fern. He likes u and u don't care_

FrenchhornFern: **I don't like him that way. I can't help it. **

StarrySerrygrl1320: _There's some1 else. _

FrenchhornFern: **What makes u say that?**

StarrySerrygrl1320: _C'mon Fern. I know you way 2 well. _

StarrySerrygrl1320: _Who is he?_

FrenchhornFern: **There is no other guy**

StarrySerrygrl1320: _And I'm the queen of England. TELL ME!!_

FrenchhornFern: **Well…. Okay, maybe there is another guy. **

StarrySerrygrl1320: _I knew it! Who is it?_

StarrySerrygrl1320: _Is it Robert? You told me you thought he was cute. _

Starry Serrygrl1320: _Or is it Scott? I bet it's Scott. You guys r always talking. _

FrenchhornFern: **Nope, neither of them. **

StarrySerrygrl1320: _Then who? I know him, right?_

FrenchhornFern: **Yeah, u do. Well, sorta **

StarrySerrygrl1320: _hmmm… Josh? Max? Kyle? Henry?_

FrenchhornFern: **no, nope, EW, and not even if hell freezes over**

StarrySerrygrl1320: _I don't know. Who??_

FrenchhornFern: **Do u promise not 2 freak and b grossed out?**

StarrySerrygrl1320: _u know me Fern. I wouldn't freak if u told me even if it was the new band director. _

FrenchhornFern: ***hangs head in defeat* **

StarrySerrygrl1320: _OMG!!! It is Mr. Dempsey isn't it??!!!_

FrenchhornFern: **Well, yeah, it is. And I don't call him Mr. Dempsey anyway. I call him David. **

StarrySerrygrl1320: _SERIOUSLY????_

FrenchhornFern: **Would I kid about things like that? **

StarrySerrygrl1320: _Well, it's just I can tell he likes u 2. _

FrenchhornFern: **I kind of figured or else he wouldn't have kissed me goodnight. **

StarrySerrygrl1320: _You kissed!?!?!?!?_

FrenchhornFern: **Yes… *smiled coyly* **

StarrySerrygrl1320: _Wow! We both got our first kisses tonight! This is so cool!_

FrenchhornFern: **Too bad mine was from a guy I can't possibly date because of a seven-year age difference. **

StarrySerrygrl1320: _yeah…. And mine moves back to Germany at the end of the year. *Looks glum* _

FrenchhornFern: **Yeah… listen, I've got to go. It's almost midnight and I have get some stuff done before the morning. **

StarrySerrygrl1320: _Good night Fern. May you have many happy dreams about a certain band director. _

******************************************************************************************************************************

            I stretched before climbing out of bed and into the shower. My dress and shoes from the night before were flung across the back of a chair but I had removed my make-up and combed most of the gel out of my hair. After getting out of the shower, I knew I needed to call Mr. Harvey. I had thought a lot about what he told me about progressing in my music. If I was going to go further, I had to go to Baltimore. As much as I wished it weren't true, my lessons with Mr. Harvey were going to stop. 

            "Hello?" he answered. 

            "Hey Mr. Harvey," I greeted him. "When can you pick me up for a lesson?" 

            "Around noon but," he hesitated. "I want to take you to Baltimore to meet with the guy I think you should be taking lessons from. Have you thought any more about it?" 

            I took a deep breath. "Yes I have," I told him. "And if you really think I need this, I'll take lessons from him." 

            "Good Fern," he said. "Can I pick you up in an hour? I want to take you up to Baltimore to meet this guy. Bring your horn. He wants to hear you play. We'll make a day out of it." 

            "Okay," I agreed. "An hour is enough time for me to get ready and wake up fully." 

            He laughed. "Okay Fern. See you around 10:30." 

            Hanging up the phone, I walked into my closet and began sorting through my clothes. It was hot outside but I still needed to look nice for whoever the guy I was going to see was. Sweet and cool was in order. I found a lavender lace-trimmed skirt and a white tank top. Slipping a pair of flip-flops on my feet, I fastened a Silver Star pendant around my neck and silver hoops in my ears. 

            I still had nearly half an hour of time left before Mr. Harvey would pick me up, even after applying all my make-up so I decided to polish my French horn to its up-most brilliance. While using a polishing cloth got rid of the fingerprints, the rare occasion when I used silver polish made it practically glow. With a towel on my lap and my arms encased in latex gloves, I polished my horn until I could see my reflection in it crystal clear. 

            There was a knock on the door. 

            "Just a minute!" I called, stripping my gloves and placing my horn in the case. Luckily, I had managed to avoid smelling like silver polish. "Come on in," I told Mr. Harvey. "I just need to finish putting the silver polish and stuff away." 

            "You actually got that stuff out?" he said. "Jeez Fern, I've only seen you do that before competition and special performances." 

            "Well, if I'm going to be playing for the guy I'll probably be taking lessons from, I want it to look like I take care of my instrument," I told him. "What's the deal with this guy anyway? You haven't really told me much about him." 

            "I'll tell you on the way," he said. "Come on, get your horn and your purse since you take one everywhere you go even though you never need it." 

            I grinned. "You know me all too well," I said, grabbing my purse and my French horn. I had already written a note for my mom since she was still at work. 

            I didn't even ask to drive but took my seat in the passenger's side. 

            "So?" I prompted. 

            "His name is Eugene Spear," he told me. "Does that ring any bells?" 

            "Many," I said. "Eugene Spear? You're kidding right?" Eugene was an internationally renowned French horn player, founder of the Baltimore Academy of Performing Arts, and an instructor that students would pay hundreds of dollars an hour for lessons. 

            He shook his head. "No, I'm not kidding." 

            "He charges two hundred dollars an hour!" I said. 

            "And he's a friend so I get a reduced rate," he told me. 

            "Still," I said in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me." 

            "If it's about your future, Fern, I never kid around," he told me. "You might as well be my daughter because even if it causes me financial ruin, you will achieve all of your dreams." 

            "Really?" I said. "You love me that much?" 

            "Of course Fern!" he said in disbelief. "I love you like a daughter and you're everything to me." 

            I smiled. "It means a lot to hear you say that. You mean a lot to me as well." 

            The rest of the two-hour drive was spent chattering about music and listening to burned CDs of marching band and concert music. 

            "What do you think of this one?" I said, changing it to a MIDI track for concert band. 

            He listened to the fanfare at the beginning. "The horn and trumpet solo at the beginning is nice and the percussion parts are nice. The Andante section in the middle with the woodwinds is beautiful. What the title?" 

            "Starshine and Moonlight," I told him. 

            He nodded. "It's nice. Talk to David because I think you guys should play this," he said. "Who's the composer on this one?"

            "Well, I am," I told him. 

            "Wow Fern," he said. "You did all that? It's great." 

            "Thanks," I replied. "It took me forever to work out the chords at the end but I figured it out after a while." 

            "Well," he said. "It sounds great and we're here." 

            We were sitting outside a beautiful brick building with a brilliant green lawn and fountain spouting crystal jets of water. A sign out front told me it was the main music hall from the Baltimore Academy of Performing Arts. 

            "Ready?" he asked. "As ready as I'll ever be." 

            I opened my door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, grabbing my French horn from the backseat. We walked up to the building and through the doors. Just walking through the doors was intimidating. The foyer of the hall was massive and white with a vaulted ceiling making it feel like a huge cavern. The floors were tiled in dazzling white marble and light filtered through skylights set in the ceiling, making it all incredibly bright. 

            "This way," Mr. Harvey said, guiding me down the hall and then up a flight of stairs to a hall of doors all marked, 'Quiet! Music Studio.' The whole building reeked of professionalism and expensive components. "It's the last door on the right," Mr. Harvey informed me. He rapped his knuckles sharply on the door. 

            "Hey Robbie," a tall thin man with a small grey goatee. It was Mr. Spear. "And you must be Alexandria. Come on in." 

            He stepped out of the doorway to lead us into the large studio. Unlike the rest of the building with its dazzling white marble floors, his floor was a light hard wood, smoothed and glossed to perfection. The walls were painted light blue with white crown molding and huge windows facing out the front of the building. Taking a closer look, I realized the walls were not as smooth as I originally thought but were made of foam painted light blue to absorb sound. A beautiful grand piano sat in the far right corner with a table of recording equipment sitting close by. Three black up-right band chairs were underneath the window and a comfortable looking green couch was beside the door with a white coffee table covered in music magazines. Two more upright chairs were in the center of the room with a music stand between them. 

            "Put your horn down Alexandria and we'll talk a little first," Mr. Spear told me, sitting down in one of the chairs in the center of the room. 

            "Please call me Alex or Fern whichever you prefer," I requested. 

            "Fern?" he asked, wrinkling his nose slightly. 

            "My middle name," I explained. "Alexandria is too formal for me." 

            He nodded. "I think I'll stick with Alex," he told me. "Robbie has told me you only have two years playing experience but you seem to have a natural aptitude for it. You played trumpet before that, correct?" 

            "Yes," I told him. "They needed a French horn player since the middle school was lacking so I switched over." 

            "Interesting," he said. "I understand that since then, you've been first chair state band every year on both instruments." 

            "Yes, I have been," I told him. "Although I think I'm going to put my trumpet away permanently so I can perfect my embouchure on French horn." 

            He nodded. "Good, good. I was going to suggest that. You cannot serve two masters for you will love one and hate the other." 

            "I didn't realize the bible could be applied to music," I replied. 

            "Oh it does," he said, standing up. He seemed to be a blob of loose energy twisted into human form that couldn't stay still for more than a few minutes as a time. "You'll be a sophomore next year, correct?" 

            I nodded. 

            "Hmmm," he said. "So you're thinking about college now. Anywhere in particular?" 

            "Yale, Ithaca, IUP, Shenandoah, just to name a few," I told him. 

            "All good music schools," he said. "But what about conservatories? What about Julliard?" 

            "They aren't historically academic," I replied. "My mom would have a fit if I went to a school that didn't require an SAT score." 

            He stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Have you ever thought about switching from the public school system to a performing arts or music school?" 

            "Yes," I admitted. "But there aren't that many around Seaford and they all have sky high tuition that mom isn't willing to pay." 

            "Hmmm…" he said. "We'll see about that." He said nothing more on the matter. "Now, can you show me the piece you've been working on lately?" 

            "Sure," I said, opening my French horn case and removing my folder. 

            "Lesson one," he said. "Never store your music in the case. It will become bent and torn." 

            "Okay," I said, opening the folder and handing him my copy of Renate and Marko. 

            He glanced over it, humming the tune while tapping his foot. "Seems difficult enough from what Robbie tells me about you. Get out your horn, warm up, and I want to hear you play this. It will give me some idea of where to start out lessons." 

            I did as told and began playing over my scales before he stopped me. 

            "Lesson two," he said. "Always take the time to make sure your instrument is free of all saliva from the last time you played. Proceed." 

            I emptied the spit key and continued playing, slightly perturbed. I wasn't used to being told I was doing something wrong, particularly twice in five minutes. Shrugging imperceptibly, I continued going over all my scales and tuning carefully with a chromatic tuner. 

            "Now, play your solo the way you normally do. I want to see how you play without help," he instructed. 

            Before I even got the first note out he stopped me again. 

            "You've got to take a deep breath before you play Alex," he told me. "You can't go on a road trip without a full tank of gas. Try again." 

            I was way beyond my depth with Mr. Spear. He seemed to find something wrong with everything I did. He probably thought I was horrible beyond all imagining. I was so used to being the best, it was tough o realize I was so horrible. Still, I played my solo with all that I had. 

            "Well," he said when I had finished. "I'm impressed." 

            Impressed? Probably impressed with how awful I was. 

            "You've got a diamond here, Robbie," he told Mr. Harvey. "She just needs a bit of polishing which I can give her." He smiled at me. "You've got a lot of talent, Alex and all the basic technical skills. You've also got quite a few bad habits to cure and some things that you've got to know in order to be the best. You're great, don't let me give you the wrong idea, but if you want to be the best, I'm the one to take you there. What days are going to work best for lessons?" 

            "Days?" I asked. 

            "Yes days," he replied. "I think an hour twice a week is best for you right now, assuming you practice at least two hours a night in between lessons. What two days will work best?" 

            I looked at Mr. Harvey. After all, he was the one who would be doing the driving. 

            "Saturday and Wednesday," he said. 

            "Sounds good," Mr. Spear said. "Let me get you the handbook, the list of required books, a set of practice logs, the recital schedule, and a few other things I want you to look over before your lesson on Saturday. There are some forms I need signed by your parents in case of emergency and so they don't sue if you don't make some symphony orchestra they want you to play in." 

            I snorted at that. 

            He smiled. "I've actually had someone try to do that," he said. "You would be amazed at how much some moms push their kids." 

            "I'm kind of in the opposite situation," I said. "My mom doesn't really care either way as long as I remember to take out the trash on Wednesday mornings and make good grades at school. She wants me to be a doctor." I laughed. "Not happening with my trig and chemistry grades though." 

            He smiled. "And not if I have anything to do with it. You'll be playing that horn in front of packed houses some day," he said. 

            "Fern, it's two o'clock. If we're going to get something to eat and go to that store you wanted to go to, we need to get a move on," Mr. Harvey told me. 

            "I'll see you Saturday," Mr. Spear said after I had packed up my horn.

            "Bye," I replied, exiting the studio. 

******************************************************************************************************************************

            "1001 Etudes for The Advanced Horn Player, Mozart and Beethoven for French horn, Advanced Solos for Competition and Recital, The Art of Fine Horn Playing, The Essentials for Horn," I read off one of the lists as we were driving home. "He doesn't want many books now does he?" 

            "He knows what he's doing, Fern," Mr. Harvey reminded me. "He has been doing this a while." 

            "I know," I replied. I picked up the next sheet of paper. It was on pre and post lesson protocol. 

Before your lesson:

-Be sure every part of your horn is in working condition. Oil your rotors and grease your slides

-Make sure your mouthpiece(s) are clean and ready for use

-Do not eat or drink anything except water within an hour of playing to avoid corrosion and buildup in your instrument from food particles and acid from sugary drinks

-Do not participate in strenuous exercise or practice on the day of the lesson

-If you insist on playing in the marching band, use a French horn mouthpiece made of plastic, nylon, or metal with a rubber coating

After Your Lesson:

-Empty your horn as completely as possible 

-Use a polishing cloth to remove all fingerprints

-Make sure to properly cool down using long tones or scales

-Write down all assignments between lessons

-Remember you are expected to practice two hours a day every day unless there are massive extenuating circumstances

            It sounded reasonable but I didn't really like being told exactly what to do. 

            "No giant cups of coffee or soda before a lesson?" I asked Mr. Harvey. "I'll go in caffeine withdrawal." 

            Mr. Harvey laughed. "It'll do you good to get off the caffeine for a while. It'll stunt your growth." 

            "I haven't grown an inch since I was in fifth grade, I think I'm done growing," I reminded him. 

            "It'll rot your teeth," he added. 

            I grinned. "You just won't let me win, will you? Oh well. I guess I'll survive." 

            "I'll take you to Starbucks after each lesson," he offered. 

            "Starbucks?" I perked up. Seaford was too lame for a Starbucks. We had a small café on High Street that served chocolate cappuccino and cinnamon buns for any sucker willing to pay five dollars a cup. 

            I guess I am among the suckers on occasion. 

            So five dollars a cup was a bit exorbitant. Oh well. I needed my coffee before school every morning. Serena happened to agree with me so more or less every morning we drove into town for coffee.

            I sighed. "I guess this is the end of my trumpet playing." 

            "No one can make you give it up Fern," Mr. Harvey told me. "It's your decision." He hesitated. "Although I would recommend giving it up if you want to progress on French horn." 

            "I know," I said. "It's the end of an era." 

            He reached over and patted my hand. "How about I take you to the music store tomorrow to order all your books and a marching mouthpiece and bit converter." 

            "Okay," I said. 

            "He was really impressed by you Fern, I can tell," he told me. 

            I snorted. "And that's why he corrected me three times in five minutes." 

            "I know Eugene. If he thought he would be wasting his time teaching you, he would have said it right out. He was impressed," Mr. Harvey told me. 

            "I guess," I replied. "You know him better than I do." 

            "I do Fern," he said. "And trust me, you'll learn more from this guy in one lesson than you ever learned from me." 

******************************************************************************************************************************

FYI: all state band auditions + three months working on the wrong music = hell and also embarrassing (AND IT'S ALL THE MUSIC STORE'S FAULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) 

Blue oyster cult: yes a sequel.. dun dun dun! I'm probably killing people in this chapter by talking very little about the aftermath of the kiss.

SkysTheLimit: Well duh. Serena is you. Lotr guys make me melt too…. Luv ya!

Purple elf: Interesting is my middle name (well, actually, it's Ruth but that's another story)

Katryna Black: tee hee… to answer your question from Friday night, yes she does. 

Bandgeek0003: yes… things will be getting very interesting very soon. (mwa ha ha ha ha!) 

Dana maru: Glad your reading now…. I guess I just know what it takes… lol jk

Kajee: thank you for the information but I already know all that as I myself am a French horn player. Some schools don't have the funding to pay for Mellophones so they have to march with French horns. (Not in my school thank God!) 

Trina: ^_^ thanks… I would be interested in reading that story….

Kaitie: ^_^ 

Drumgirl07: thanks… I know it's a bit wrong but so would anything based around student teacher relationships. I have the unfortunate experience of a percussion section with only two people who can read music and just about all of which are on weed.

Personnottobename: I know what you mean… I have a crush on my band director. *sigh* he's nine years older than me and engaged though. Too bad. Lol. Next chapter will probably be focusing a lot more on the relationship than this one. 

Leah: I know student/teacher stuff takes a while to get used to. As for realism, who says they don't suspect something? 

I love you all! 'Specially my beta reader JacenS! Now, REVIEW!!!!!!!!!


	7. VII

            I woke up the next morning with a splitting pain in the back of my head. 

            "This is probably what Zeus felt like before Athena sprang from his head," I muttered. Trudging into the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. When I lift my hand to ruffle my hair, it came off bloody. That's when realization dawned that in the night I had managed to split open my stitches. 

            "Shit!" I shouted. Mr. Harvey was at a workshop all morning and mom was out having fun with one of her friends for once. I knew I had to get to the doctors to get it cleaned out and re-stitched so it didn't get infected. Serena had a date with Dennis. 

            Who was I going to call?

            I realized with a gulp and a lurch of my stomach that the only person with a car that I could call was David. Things were bound to be a little awkward but I needed to get checked out. I'd wait until after I got dressed though. Wouldn't it be a lovely sight to see a girl walk into the ER in unicorn pajamas and a large laceration on the back of the head?

            I didn't think so either. 

            I quickly put on a pair of mesh shorts and a blue tee shirt, winching as the cotton lightly brushed against the gash. When I went downstairs, I flipped on the coffeemaker and picked up the cordless phone, dialing David's cell phone number. 

            "Hello?" he answered. 

            "Hey David, it's Fern," I said. "Can I beg a favor?"

            "It depends. What do you need?" he asked. 

            "A ride to the hospital. My stitches got ripped open and it's bleeding every where," I told him. "Serena is out on a date, Mr. Harvey's at a work shop, and mom's out having fun for once in her life so this is kind of my last option besides walking five miles to the ER." 

            "Of course," he said. "I'll be over in ten minutes." 

            "See you," I said.

            Ten minutes later, I heard him pull up in the driveway. I grabbed my purse and went out through the garage, sliding into the front seat of his car. 

            "Ouch," he said, looking at her head. "Let me see that." 

            I turned so he could see. 

            "God Fern," he said, his fingers lightly brushing the back of my neck. "That's got to hurt." 

            "Oh believe me, it does," I replied. "Right now, I'm dying for a shot of lidocaine right there." 

            "Let's get you to the hospital then. Buckle up," David told me. 

            I did as he said and we lapsed into a somewhat awkward silence. 

            "David?" I asked, somewhat tentatively. 

            "Yeah?" he replied. 

            "Any chance we can talk about what happened the other night?" I questioned. 

            "Yeah, we need to," he said hesitantly. "Look, I—"

            I stopped him. "Just let me talk for a second, okay?" I requested. 

            He nodded. 

            "Even though the idea of dating a teacher kind of creeps me out, there's something different about you," I said. "Whatever you want, I want. Just understand that I like you a hell of a lot." 

            David took a deep breath, gazing out through the windshield and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as they waited at the stoplight. "Fern, as much as I'm attracted to you and wish this could happen, it just can't. Not right now. Not while I'm a teacher and you're just an about to turn sixteen years old student. I'm not going to deny that I wish something could happen but it can't Fern. I'm sorry." 

            I nodded. I had a feeling what his answer was going to be. Sure, I was disappointed but that didn't exactly mean we couldn't be friends. "I understand perfectly," I replied. "We can still be friends, though, right?" 

            He smiled and nodded. "Of course. I can still play concerned friend and take you out to lunch after we get that lovely laceration on your head fixed." 

            "Thanks," I said. 

********************************************************************************************

            "Oh honey," the nurse said when I walked into the ER yet again. "You split your stitches? Let me get your mom. She's free." 

            I nodded and took a seat on one of the uncomfortable blue plastic chairs that filled the ER waiting room. David picked up an old copy of Sports Illustrated while I tapped my foot impatiently waiting for the grand Dr. Scott to make her appearance. 

            "Sweetheart! What happened?" my mom asked when she blew into the waiting room, the doors swinging behind her. 

            "The stitches split," I informed her. "I just need them cleaned up and re-stitched." 

            "Come on," she said, taking my hand and ushering me into the sutcher room where she immediately injected a local anesthetic into my scalp. 

            "I thought you were out with Sally and Tammy," I told her, remembering that she had plans for the day. 

            "I am later," she said. "First I have a seminar this morning and then the girls are going out for lunch and shopping. Who drove you here?" 

            "David," I told her. "He's the new band director and a good friend." 

            "That's nice," she said absently as she began stitching up the cut very carefully. "You were out with Mr. Harvey all day yesterday. Where'd you go?" 

            "Baltimore," I said. "He wants me to change teachers and go to this guy who teaches at a fancy music school there." 

            "Really?" she said. "What do you think about all this?" 

            I shrugged. "The new guy seems really really nice and he's a good teacher. I'll be going two days a week for lessons." 

            "That's nice," she said. 

            I decided not to bother telling her who he was since she would never understand the magnitude of who I was going to be taking lessons from. For the remaining amount of time it took to close the gash back up, we sat in absolute silence. 

            "Bye mom," I told her when she was finished. "See you later." 

            "Bye Sweetie," she said, rushing up the stairs back to the conference room. 

            David smiled when he saw me. "Ready?" 

            I nodded. 

            "What's good around here?" he asked. 

            "Depends on what you want. Alfredo's is best for anything Italian, subs, and pizza. PK is good for sandwiches, pizza, Italian, ice cream, and more or less anything. The Hobbit is a really good vegetarian café that even Mr. Harvey likes. The China Garden has oriental fare. And of course there's Mama Jo's for burgers and diner like food, plus the old fast food standby of Taco Bell, KFC, Arby's, or KFC," I rattled off. Sure, I was giving way too much information but I had no idea what he liked. Also, I was a it unsure of what to say to him. 

            "Tell me what you want," he said. "It all sounds good to me." 

            "You realize you're asking the most indecisive person ever to make a decision," I said. "Um…. The Hobbit. It's right off High street." 

            "Point the way," he said as we got into the car. 

            I directed him to the small garden café on Main Street, right next to my favorite coffee shop. We seated ourselves at a small table out in the garden, inspired by the works of J.R.R. Tolkein and ordered veggie burgers and selections from their extensive juice and smoothie bar. 

            "This place is pretty nice," he said after an awkward silence. "Now if only they had a good cheeseburger." 

            I laughed. "Be satisfied with the veggie burger," I told him. The awkward silence set in again. Of course it was awkward. We were attracted to each other. That didn't exactly bode well for a future friendship, especially with age difference. I wanted to be with him but I couldn't exactly force him into a relationship. I was thinking about that when my cell phone rang. 

            "Hello?" I answered. 

            "Hey Ferny," Mr. Harvey said. "When should I pick you up to go to B & B?" 

            "Um… one-ish? I'm out at lunch right now," I said. 

            "Sounds good to me. I'll pick you up and we'll drive to Camden," he said. 

            "See you later," I replied, hanging up the phone. "Mr. Harvey and I are going to B & B for my new lesson books and mouthpiece this afternoon," I explained to David. "I'll be taking lesson from Eugene Spear twice a week from now on." 

            "You've got to be kidding me," he said. "Eugene Spear?!"

            I nodded. "The one and only," I replied. 

            "Damn," he said. "I wish I had someone taking me to see him twice a week when I was in college." 

            "I know," I said. "But he's a friend of Mr. Harvey's and he wanted me to take from him. "I believe he referred to me as a diamond that needs polishing." I smiled. That was one big compliment. 

            "Damn," he said. "That's amazing." 

            I nodded with a silly grin on my face. "I also suspect he wants me to go to some fancy music school. Never going to happen though. Mom isn't going to pay tuition for a school when the public music program is fine." 

            "I want you in the band next year. Don't leave," he told me, the smile fading from his face slightly. 

            "I'm not," I assured him calmly as the waitress placed our meals in front of us. 

            "This is pretty good," David said, taking a bite. 

            I smiled. "Maybe there is hope for you." 

********************************************************************************************

            I inhaled the pungent smell of silver polish and valve oil as we walked through the doors of B & B music. It was my version of heaven with the shelves and shelves of new sheet music, shining new instruments, band knick-knacks, and soft background music coming from the practice studios in the back. 

            For a few minutes, I wandered the store aimlessly, poring over the latest issues of marching band magazines and the brand new instruments displayed proudly in glass cases with information about their fancy Italian construction and special features. All of it was so beautiful and so tempting to blow all the money in my bank account on, particularly the new Yamaha descant horn in solid silver with everything I ever wanted in a horn. 

            "Quit drooling," Mr. Harvey scolded me when he saw me looking at it. "You've got a perfectly nice horn that will suit you for quite a while." 

            "I know," I said. "But I can dream." 

            "That you can, Ferny," he said with a chuckle, guiding me over to the case of French horn mouthpieces. Quickly, I selected a nice purple plastic one and a bit converter before going over to the books. 

            "Is there anything I can help you with?" a salesperson asked me. 

            "Uh yes," I said, taking the list out of my pocket. "I need 1001 Etudes for The Advanced Horn Player, Mozart and Beethoven for French horn, Advanced Solos for Competition and Recital, The Art of Fine Horn Playing, The Essentials for Horn," I read off. 

            "Whose the instructor that assigns that many books?" she asked in disbelief. 

            "Um… Eugene Spear," I told her. 

            "Eugene Spear," she repeated. "Wow. You must be good if he'll take you." 

            "What do you mean?" I asked. 

            She shrugged as she began looking for the books. "I heard he wasn't taking anymore unless they were spectacular." 

            "Oh," I said taken aback by the news. 

            She smiled at me, revealing white even teeth from years of dental work. "I guess you must be something special then." 

            I shrugged and waited as she got me my books. "Anything else?" she asked. 

            I shook my head. "No but thanks." 

            She smiled. "I expect I'll be hearing about you quite soon." 

            Mr. Harvey came up behind me. "Got everything?" he asked. 

            I nodded and handed him the books. I noticed he had two bags already in his hands but I didn't ask about them, assuming I'd figure it out in time. 

            While he was at the counter, I continued browsing the music. 

            "Come on Fern," he called. "Let's get you home."

********************************************************************************************

            With a sigh, I relaxed on the couch, kicking my feet up on a pile of cushions and covering myself with a soft down coverlet. It was only four in the afternoon but I was bone tired. Then of course the phone had to ring. 

            "Go away," I said into the receiver. 

            "That's not nice," a male voice said. 

            I smiled slightly. "Sorry Scott. It's been a long day." Scott, one of the percussion section leaders, happened was my best guy friend. He gave me insight as to how the male mind worked. Of course, he also happened to be Jason's best friend.

            "It's okay, Fern," he said. "I haven't seen you all summer." 

            "It's only the first week of vacation," I reminded him, lying back on the couch. 

            "True," he said. "But… you're one of my friends so naturally we should've talked." 

            "You sound like a girl," I teased. 

            "Oh shut up," he said. "Listen, a bunch of us want to go out for lunch and a movie tomorrow afternoon. All of us agree that you're coming." 

            "Oh really?" I said. "And who decided this?" 

            "Me, Bailea, Jason, Serena, Kaitie, and a bunch of the others," he told me. 

            "Tomorrow is…." I said. 

            "Thursday," he told me. 

            "Thursday," I repeated. "Yes, I can do Thursday. Somebody's got to pick me up though." 

            "I'll do it," he told me. "I'll be over around eleven." 

            "Okay," I said. "I'm really, really tired right now for some reason so I'll see you tomorrow." 

            "Okay Fern," he said. "Talk to you tomorrow." 

            I sighed and turned the phone off, leaning back into the cushions. Of course Jason would be there. Of course I would have to spend the afternoon with the guy who had a scary, almost stalker-ish crush on me.

            'Why not?' a nasty little voice in the back of my head told me. "You deserve a little fun and a distraction." 

            Admittedly, going out with other boys wasn't exactly the best way to deal with my feelings but it was definitely the most fun way. 

********************************************************************************************

            "Damn Fern," Scott said as I slid into his car. "You look killer." 

            "Thanks," I said. I had made an effort to look nice, wearing dark jeans and a soft purple halter top with my black flip flops and a purple bandana in my hair to hide my stitches. 

            "You make it all too easy," he said. "Jason'll drop dead." 

            I smiled. 

            "Witch," he said with a grin. "That's you're evil plan, isn't it?" 

            "Perhaps," I told him as we cruised down the street. 

            He grinned at me. "You needn't make an effort, Fern. He's smitten." 

            "I know," I told him. 

            We got to the China Garden where everyone else was already waiting for us. 

            "W-wow Fern," Jason said. "You look nice." 

            I grinned and blushed before perching delicately on the chair beside his and picking up the menu. Even as I ordered my food, I could feel Jason's eyes on me. 

            "Ride with me to the movie," he said. 

            "What's in it for me?" I asked, teasingly. 

            "Free milk duds, popcorn, and coke," he said. 

            "I'm in," I agreed with a smile. 

            "Are you saying you only want me for my food?" he asked, mock hurt. 

            "You betcha," I replied as the waitress set my soda in front of me. 

            For the entire meal, I could practically feel his eyes following my every move. It made me quite uncomfortable to be under such intense scrutiny. I was getting the feeling that riding with him to the movies wasn't the best idea after all, even if free food was in the deal. However, when it came time to ride to the theater, I did slide into the passenger's seat of his car. 

            "So," he said as we were driving down the highway towards the theaters in Salisbury. 

            "So," I repeated, not really knowing what to say. 

            "I tried to call yesterday and the day before but you were out," he told me.

            "Oh yeah… On Tuesday, I was in Baltimore meeting with my new private instructor. Yesterday, I was in the ER all morning and B & B all afternoon," I told him. 

            "Very cool," he said. "Who are you taking lessons from now?" 

            "Eugene Spear," I said, knowing the name would mean absolutely nothing to him. 

            "That's nice," he said distractedly, looking out at the highway. 

            God that was uncomfortable. I wanted relief from what I was feeling about David, not the uncomfortable feeling I was getting. 

            "So Fern," he continued. "I know you know I like you. Let's go out for dinner." 

            "I don't think so," I told him. 

            "Why not?" he asked. 

            "I just don't really think of you that way, Jason," I told him. I was being straightforward since subtleties were obviously lost on him.

            "Oh," he said. "I thought you did." 

            "Look, I'm sorry if I led you on or something but I just don't like you that way," I said. "You're one of my best guy friends. I'm sorry." 

            "Whatever," he muttered. 

            I knew that it was probably the end of our friendship but I didn't care. The tension between us was gone. 

            "Hey guys. You made it," Serena greeted us. 

            "Yup. Even in one piece," I replied. 

            While I talked to Serena, Jason went up and bought the tickets and snacks. As we filed into the theater, he handed me my food wordlessly and went to sit down next to Scott. 

            "Is it just me or he not acting like a puppy around you for once?" Serena asked. 

            "He's not," I told her as we walked down the aisle. 

            "What happened on that car ride?" she asked. 

            "I told him I didn't like him that way," I said. "It's probably the end of our friendship but at least he's gone."

            "That's good," she said. "And bad." 

            I shrugged. "I'm just glad I don't have to worry about him staring at me all the time now," I said. 

            "True," she agreed. "Where do you want to sit?" 

            "Um… how about—whoa!" I shouted as I tripped. As if in slow motion, I watched my soda spill on the nearest person in front of me and that same person reach out to catch me as I fell. 

            "Gee what a lovely way to thank me for catching you," he joked. 

            "Oh god," I said. "I'm so sorry!" I couldn't help but notice how incredibly cute he was. Dark hair flopped over his beautiful blue eyes. He was tall, nearly a foot taller than me and thin. 

            "It's okay," he said, steadying me on my feet. 

            "Still," I said, handing my stuff to Serena. "Let me help you. Come on. I'll get some napkins." 

            He followed me out of the theater and to the concession stand where I grabbed a stack of napkins and began sopping the diet coke off his black tee shirt and pants. 

            "Thanks," he said. "I'm Rob Vasters." 

            "Nice to meet you Rob," I said. "I'm Fern Scott." 

            "Well Fern," he said. "Since the contents of your soda seem to be absorbed in my clothes, how about I buy you another?" 

            "You don't have to do that," I said. 

            He shrugged and got out his wallet and got two sodas from the concession stand, handing me one. 

            "Thanks," I said. 

            "Sure," he said. "Now we have to talk about how you're going to repay me." 

            "Oh?" I said. 

            "Yes," he continued. "Sit next to me for the movie and we will go from there." 

            "Works for me," I agreed, hardly thinking it was punishment to be forced to sit next to him during the movie. I got my snacks from Serena and slid into a seat next to him. It was somewhat distracting to watch the movie sitting next to next to a boy, even if it was a boy I had just met. 

            Serena looked back at us a few times, questioning me. "Later," I mouthed to her. 

            She nodded, turning around to watch the movie. 

            Two hours later, we were walking out of the theater. I tossed my candy boxes and empty cups into the trash bin and followed Rob out of the theater. 

            "So," he said. "I've been thinking of how you're going to repay me." 

            "And that would be?" I asked, somewhat suspiciously. If it was anything like what most guys would ask for, it wasn't going to happen. 

            "You are going to take me out to McDonalds and then you are going to tell me everything there is to know about you," he said. 

            "Works for me," I told him. "As long as one of my friends can go with us since I was told not to go out with a stranger alone." 

            He shrugged. "Fine by me," he told me. "Grab your friend and lets get going to beat the after movie rush in the food court." 

            I grabbed Serena. "Come on, you're coming with me," I whispered in her ear. 

            "Who is he?" she questioned. 

            "Rob," I said. "That's all I know." 

            She shrugged and followed us to the food court and up to Mickey D's.

            In the hour that we sat, drinking milkshakes and eating French fries, I discovered many important things. Number one, he was officially a Blades boy having moved from New Jersey. Number two, he was a bass clarinet player in band and a very good one. Number three, he was living down the street from me.

            "Well Fern," he told me as we walked out to the parking lot. "I had a lovely time and I suspect we'll be seeing each other quite soon." 

            "Well Rob," I said with a smile. "I'd have to agree."


	8. VIII

I stretched luxuriously as the sunlight streamed through my window. It was my lesson day and I was ready. Quickly, I got up and pulled on a jean skirt, black tee shirt, and my converses. I gelled and spiked my hair and then grabbed breakfast and a cup of coffee. By the coffee maker, however, was a note from mom.

Hey Fern—

Good luck at your lesson today. Play well and call me later to make dinner plans.

Love,

Mom

I smiled and placed the note back on the counter before pouring myself more coffee and taking two donuts from the box. I sat down in the sun-washed alcove my mom called "the breakfast nook." Really, it was little more than an extension of the kitchen, separated from the rest by a partition. Mr. Harvey would be there at 10 to pick me up but I still had an hour to chill.

Suddenly the phone rang.

"Hello?" I asked.

"I know it's early and I'm sorry if I woke you up but I need to ask you if you have plans today," someone said.

"Is this Rob?" I questioned.

"Yeah," he said.

"Okay," I replied. "And sorry but I've got a French horn lesson in Baltimore that's going to take up most of my day."

"Damn it," he cursed. "Tomorrow?"

"Sure," I said. "Although I am warning you that if my mom decides to make plans, I go with her."

"Fine," he said. "Bye."

I relaxed back against the sofa and grabbed a book to read while I was waiting. However, only another five minutes would pass before the phone rang again. It was Serena.

"Spill," she said.

"Spill what?" I asked.

"Has he called? I bet he called. I know he liked you. It was way obvious," she told me.

"Yeah, he called," I told her, enjoying keeping her in suspense.

"And???" she demanded. "What did he say?"

"We're going out tomorrow," I told her.

She shrieked on the other end, an earsplitting gasp that nearly busted my eardrum. "I can't believe it! You FINALLY scored a boyfriend! Oh my god! This is going to be such an awesome summer!"

"Relax!" I told her. "He's not my boyfriend. He's the guy I met yesterday who asked me to go out on a date. Dennis is your boyfriend, Rob is not mine."

She huffed. "Whatever. Call me later. We need a girls night sometime soon."

"Agreed," I said. "Bye Serena."

"You seem quite glowing," Mr. Harvey observed as I slid into the car. "What's up?"

"I met a guy," I confessed.

"Did you and David…" his voice trailed off.

I shook my head. "This has nothing to do with David. This has to do with Rob. Rob the hot new guy who just moved here and plays bass clarinet."

"Interesting," he said. "Have I met him?"

"I doubt it," I said.

"I dunno, Fern," he replied. "I'd really want to meet whoever it is you're dating."

"I'm not dating him," I said. "Yet."

"And yet is my point," he said.

I sighed. "You are so overprotective of me sometimes," I complained.

"I know," he said. "But I have to be. You're like my daughter Fern."

"And you're like my father," I told him. "I guess I wouldn't have it any other way."

He nodded. "That's right, you wouldn't and neither would I," he told me. "Just be really careful, Fern. You're young and naïve and some people will take advantage of that."

"I am careful," I said.

He sighed. "Just make sure I meet him before you go too far, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed. "Besides, I only met him two days ago."

Mr. Harvey fell silent for a moment before changing the subject. "So what are you going to do with your time in the four weeks until band camp?"

"A lot of nothing. Practice, swim, and if I'm lucky, one of those workshops I applied to," I told him.

"You'll get in," he assured me. "I feel quite sure Eugene will put in a good word for you in the Baltimore Academy camp."

I shrugged. "I hope so."

"Besides," he said. "You'll still have fun at band camp this year."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"Something special this year. I expect you'll get a letter quite soon," he replied.

"I take it it's a big secret that you are unwilling to share," I said.

He nodded, jaw set.

I huffed. "Fine."

"You'll know soon enough. Now get focused," he said. "Eugene is not tolerant of unfocussed students."

I sighed. "Fine."

"I need to see how you sight read," Mr. Spear announced, once I had warmed up and gone trough several exercises and he had already made about a hundred corrections in my posture, breathing, embouchure, and instrument handling. I was not feeling particularly open to criticism when he placed a difficult etude in front of me. It wasn't that the notes were hard, only sixteenths in my normal range, but the articulation and time signature were awkward. I studied the music briefly and after looking at Mr. Spear, I began.

It was awkward from the start. The whole thing just sounded weird to me. And yet Mr. Spear was nodding.

"Hm," was all he said when I'd finished. He got up and walked around the room.

I was afraid I'd done so awful, he was going to tell me he never wanted to see me darken his studio ever again.

"It was… okay," he told me finally. "Aside from the fact that you butchered the articulation, ignored the dynamics, changed the tempo five times, and rushed the ending."

I couldn't decide if he was being sarcastic or not so I looked at him uncertainly.

He sighed. "You didn't do awful but I know you can do better. I'm assuming you haven't had much experience with odd meter?"

"No, I haven't," I told him.

"Practice exercises one through ten in section seventeen this week. Look at the solo Giante, I'll expect it to be prepared by Wednesday. Work on double and triple tonguing and pleas fill this out." He handed me a sheaf of papers entitled "Application for Admission to the Baltimore Academy of Performing Arts."

I nodded but looked at him questioningly.

"I have pull with the board," he said by way of explanation. "I may be able to get you in."

"Thank you," I said, though knowing that I wouldn't be attending.

"Work hard this week. I expect improvement next time. And make sure to check the mail every day," he said. "You're dismissed."

Silently, I packed my instrument and followed Mr. Harvey down the silent marble corridor.

"He's so tough!" I exclaimed once we were outside.

"He's the best, Ferny," Mr. Harvey reminded me. "And he expects a lot from his students. Anything less than a thousand percent isn't good enough. You've got to focus! I know you Fern. You don't stand by and watch everything you've ever wanted pass you by. This is your chance Fern! You're not going to get another opportunity like this! Eugene can take you places no one else can."

"I know all this," I replied slowly and stiffly. "I know what studying with him means. Don't you think I think about all this? And suddenly I'm not allowed to say how hard it is to go to him after studying with a comparatively easy instructor?"

His face tensed up. "Get it together. I know it's tough but you can handle it," he told me.

"And I know I can!" I exclaimed. "But I need you to encourage me, not lecture me. I can already see he isn't one to hand out compliments. I don't need to be babied but I need to know when I'm doing things right."

He sighed. "You never needed encouragement before."

"Yeah but I could see that you approved by your face," I pointed out.

"I'll try Fern," he told me. "Now lets go get coffee and some lunch."

I got home and set my things down. The light on the answering machine was blinking.

The first message was from my mom.

"Hey honey. I'll be home at seven. How about we go to dinner? What's that pasta place you like? Alfredo's? We can take Serena and Mr. Harvey if you like. So I'll see you at seven. Bye Sweetie!"

I smiled, knowing I'd need to make more calls.

The second was from a telemarketer trying to sell me insurance. The third was cryptic. All it said was, "Check your mail."

Following the orders of the message, I went outside to get the mail. My heart nearly stopped when I saw the contents. Three thick packets were among the pile of catalogues and bills. I practically ran up the driveway and into the house, ripping open the first envelope. My eyes scanned the page so fast, I could hardly read what it said.

Dear Miss. Scott,

After careful consideration, we are pleased to inform you of your acceptance into the Julliard summer program.

That was all I needed to jump for joy. Julliard! However, I had to come down to reality. They weren't offering me any financial assistance. I wouldn't be able to go.

With my spirits down, I opened the second envelope.

Dear Miss. Scott,

It is my pleasure to welcome you to the Baltimore Academy of Performing Arts Summer Program. After a stunning recommendation by a member of our staff, we have also decided to grant you the Wilson memorial scholarship which covers the tuition for our two week program.

The letter went on but that was all I needed to know. I was going to Baltimore in two weeks. My excitement however was not enough to distract me from the packet with the school letterhead.

Dear Band Student,

I am your new band director Mr. David Dempsey. I'm writing to inform you of our new and exciting band camp.

This year, instead of spending five weeks rehearsing in school, we will be spending three of those weeks at Cabot University in Pennsylvania. You will have weekends off and transportation home will be available. The required forms are enclosed. The cost per student is only $200 due to outside funding sources and scholarships are available for those who require financial assistance.

Please make sure the forms are in by next week.

Sincerely,

David Dempsey

So the big secret was out. And band camp was going to be quite interesting.

I decided to call David to find out what the deal was.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Band camp at Cabot, huh?"

"Yeah. One of my old professors transferred there and he offered to help."

"Cool. Three weeks at a college. That'll be interesting."

"Yup. With weekends off. There's stuff for people who stay though."

"Fun," I replied.

"Yes it will be."

"Uh huh," I said, not sure what to say.

"So… um… how are your lessons going?"

"It's really tough," I told him. "Mr. Spear is so much harder than Mr. Harvey ever was. I expected that of course but it's still very difficult."

"I feel quite sure you are doing great."

"That will be the only problem at band camp."

"What?" he asked. "That you're doing great?"

"No, that I still have to be in Baltimore twice a week for lessons."

"If you cut back to once a week, we'll get you there, even if I have to drive you there myself."

"Thanks," I told him.

"You're welcome. I'll do what I can to keep my best student happy."

"I'm hardly the best student."

He snorted. "Not from what I've heard."

"Whatever you say. Sadly, I must go. Mom's going to be here any minute for dinner."

"Okay," he said, disappointment in his voice. Ome other time, Fern."

"Bye."

I knew perfectly well that I shouldn't think about David. He had, after all, told me no. Despite that and despite that I had Rob, I still wanted him and I knew I wouldn't ever stop feeling that way.

I know. It took forever, it isn't as long as usual but it's up. The next chapter is her date with Rob though (and I already started it) so stick around and thanks for reading.

REVIEW!!!

And I'm sorry none of the text breaks show but the writing on my computer doesnt work so i can't actually see where i had a break.


	9. IX

Rob picked me up at eleven the next morning with instructions to wear sandals and take sun block. I opted for shorts and a tank top over a bathing suit (just in case), and low-heeled black sandals. In my bag went sunglasses and a tube of SPF 30.

"Where are we going?" I questioned. We were in his Ford, going down route thirteen. It was a typical first car: a mid nineties sedan with worn upholstery and a crappy stereo system. The backseat was typically messy for a male.

"You'll see," he told me.

"Why are you being so secretive?" I asked.

"It's just the way that I am," he informed me.

I left it alone. "So, are you officially enrolled in Blades High School yet?"

"Yeah. I enrolled the day after your last day of school. I got my course schedule too and met the band director."

"Yeah, David's a nice guy," I said carefully, not wanting to reveal too much. "Band Camp is gonna rock this year."

"It will," he agreed. "Especially since I get to spend it with you."

"You hardly know me," I argued.

"True," he said. "But I already know I like you."

I smiled. "I like you too Rob."

"That's definitely a plus," he replied. "Being as if we didn't like each other, this would not be pleasant."

"Very true," I said nodding solemnly.

He laughed. "You certainly rank high on the interesting scale. And that's a good thing."

"Well, you're up there yourself," I pointed out. "And you're also up there on the mysterious scale. Where are we going?"

"In time milady, all in time," he said. He hesitated. "Now, you need to tie this over your eyes." He handed me a black bandana.

In good sport, I tied it over my eyes so I couldn't see.

About fifteen minutes later, the car came to a stop.

"Hold on," he told me, opening his door. The car shifted slightly as he got out. Then he opened my door and I felt a warm breeze blowing.

"Let's get these off," I heard him say softly as he fiddled with the straps on my black sandals. "Okay."

He took my hands and pulled me up. The ground gave away slightly to my feet. Sand.

I let myself be led farther and heard a rushing sound.

"Take the bandana off your eyes," he instructed.

And as I suspected, we were at the beach.

I smiled up at him and looked into his beautiful blue eyes. "Thank you. This is wonderful."

He smiled back at me. Then he hesitated slightly before leaning down and kissing me.

It was my second real kiss and I liked it and liked him. His lips were soft and my heart beat faster. It was nice and I kissed him back.

But it still wasn't the same as when David kissed me. As much as I liked Rob, he wasn't David.

But sill, the beach and the waves and the sand were perfect and so was the feeling of his arms around me and it was easy to just let myself fall into the moment.

* * *

"Hey honey," My mom greeted me when I got home around seven. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, just out and about. I went on a date to the beach," I informed her casually.

"That's great Sweetie," she said distractedly. She sighed. "I have today and tomorrow off but then its four nights of red-eye shifts. So we need to get your camp shopping done tomorrow. Do you have the lists?"

I nodded. "Yeah, they're in my file folders."

She nodded as well. "Be ready by eleven. We'll go to the mall."

"Okay, thanks mama," I replied, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Any dinner plans?"

"There's pizza in the fridge," she said. "I'm going out with a few friends so I'll be back later."

"Okay mom," I said. "Have fun."

"I will. And you have fun too," she told me. "Leave me a note if you decide to go out."

"All right, thanks mom," I said. I opened the fridge and got the Pizza hut box out and placed three slices in the microwave. Pouring myself a glass of milk, I waited for my pizza to finish heating up.

I sat down on the couch in front of the TV and turned it on to HBO because the Lord of the Rings was playing. I watched while I was easting. Afterward, I called Serena, knowing she was dying to hear the scoop on my date.

"Tell! Tell! Tell!" she said the second she picked up. "Where did you go? What did you do? I want details!"

I smiled to myself. "He took me to the beach. And it was really cool because he blindfolded me so I wouldn't know where we were going. When we got there, he kissed me. Then we had a picnic lunch and went swimming. I got home half an hour ago."

"Aw! That's so sweet!" she said.

"How are things with you and Dennis?" I questioned.

"Pretty good," she informed me. "We're going out tomorrow."

"Cool. I'll be out with mom tomorrow. I need to get stuff for camp," I informed her.

"Awesome!" she said. "Is Jason still acting weird around you?"

"I haven't talked to him," I confessed.

She tutted. "He really liked you, you know."

"I know," I said. "But we aren't right for each other."

"And I'm not contesting that fact," she said. "Besides, you have Rob now."

"I know and I'm lucky I do," I said. "Really lucky. He's so sweet."

"Yes he is," she agreed. "And I know you're excited about band camp."

"Of course," I said. "I wouldn't be me if I wasn't."

"No you wouldn't," she agreed. "But there are added bonuses. I was just thinking you'd get to spend three weeks with your honey. Talking, kissing, making out in the instrument closet."

"I know," I said grinning. "And I can hardly wait."

"I'm looking forward to it myself even if Dennis won't be there," she said. "It's gonna rock."

"Yes it will," I agreed.

We talked for another half an hour before both of us had to go. I needed to practice and she had to call Dakota. Still even as I practiced, all I could think about was the feeling of Rob's lips on my own.

* * *

"Well, you're going to need sheets and a comforter since we don't have a twin size," mom said as we stood in the house wares department of JC Penney's. "And some containers to store stuff. A collapsible laundry hamper would be nice too. You could probably use a better trunk as well."

"Yeah, I could," I agreed.

"Now what kind of colors were you thinking?" she asked. "I was thinking bright pink and green."

"Actually, soft blue and green would be nice," I requested, shuddering inwardly at the thought of a garishly bright green bedspread.

Mom shrugged. "That works as well. Now let's get shopping!"

I felt the material of a light green down and satin comforter. It was soft and warm to the touch, perfect. I pulled it off the shelf and checked the price. Whole mom was looking at translucent white storage containers; I added two sets of pale blue jersey knit sheets to the cart. It was just like my mom to desire order along with bold color. Her room and the kitchen were evident of that with their splashy prints and extensive organizational systems.

"Mom, do I really need ten boxes?" I asked, seeing what she'd packed into the cart.

"You never know," she said. "Maybe, maybe not."

I sighed, letting her buy the excess, as was her way. There was no small way to do anything with my mom. It was always nothing or everything, no halfway. Even when serving cake at all my birthday parties, it was either a huge slice of cake or none. It was a quality unique to her and at times I loved her for it and at times I hated her for it but she was my mom.

Half an hour later, we were walking out with way more than I would ever need. Still, I was happy just to spend time with her; a rarity in our busy lives.

"Honey, lets get some lunch and then how about we go look for some clothes for you since you get skinnier by the day?" she said.

I smiled. "Sure mom." Maybe she wasn't a candidate for mother of the year but I still loved her.

Yet, as we at salads and tried on clothes together, I couldn't help but think of her as more of a sister than a mother.

* * *

"David is taking you to your lesson tomorrow," Mr. Harvey told me. "I have a meeting to go to."

"All right," I said although it was most definitely not all right. I didn't want to spend more time with him than was absolutely necessary. It would be so awkward and nothing would be the same between us. "So I guess I'll see you Saturday?"

"Yeah, unless he wants you to not go because the first day of camp is that Sunday," he reminded me.

"True," I said. "I'll ask him about it. And about band camp."

"Okay," he said. "Make sure he understands that you can do once a week for those weeks."

"I will," I assured him.

"Well, I gotta go, Ferny," he said.

"Okay, see you Mr. H," I replied, hanging up the phone. No, it definitely wasn't okay that David was taking me to my lesson but there was nothing I could do about it.

* * *

"Hey Fern," David greeted me with a forced smile as I opened the car door and threw my stuff in the backseat.

"Morning," I mumbled. I was tired and couldn't have coffee.

"You're caffeine-less I see," he observed, taking a sip of his jumbo travel mug of coffee to torture me.

"Shut it," I said. "We're going to Starbucks after my lesson or you won't live to see tomorrow."

He grinned. "Works for me."

"Good." I sighed. "I had so much stuff to practice these past couple days. I hope I do okay today."

"You'll be great," he assured me.

"Not in Mr. Spears opinion," I said. "Never in his opinion. He is the best there is though."

"That he is," David agreed. "I wish I'd had someone like him when I was learning."

"Maybe," I said. "He's really tough though. Extremely tough."

"I guess I'll see that," he said, somewhat skeptically.

* * *

"Again!" Mr. Spear said. "Go into the crescendo! Feel the crescendo! Breathe life into the crescendo! I want it to be the best crescendo I have heard in my entire life!"

He was on a nit-picking roll and there was no stopping him. I tried again.

"Yes! Perfect! That's what I'm talking about! One more time and we'll move on!"

I played it again with him nodding slightly as I played. "Good, good. It's coming along nicely. Practice it more for Saturday. That will be your audition piece for camp seating. I feel quite sure of your position though. I don't see the need to worry." He frowned. "And don't let your little band camp interfere with your practice schedule. I don't like having to cut back when you're at the critical stage."

"Critical stage of what?" I asked.

"Before your audition to the school! You're the best! Therefore you need the best teacher and the best school that money can buy! I can give you that and the academy can give you that," he told me, half-shouting.

"Oh," I said.

He sighed and seemed to deflate a bit. "I shouldn't do this but here. They're copies but it'll give you a chance to go over it before the first practice." He handed me a black folder of music. It was difficult stuff but nothing compared to some of the stuff in my lesson books. There were no really fast rhythms and the range was decent. "Just look at it, practice it a bit. Make sure you up your technical practice this week. They'll ask for scales and intervals up to five flats and sharps. Be ready. You can get first chair easily but your intervals in B are a bit shaky. Practice two hours a night."

I nodded.

He smiled and patted my shoulder. "We're done for today. I'll see you Saturday."

"Thanks," I said packing up.

"Oh yes. I was told to apologize on behalf of the camp for the delay in getting your letter to you. They wanted my verdict first."

"It's okay," I said. "I understand.

He smiled. "Good. I'll see you Saturday."

"Bye Mr. Spear."

* * *

I stared at my hands on my mug of coffee. Instead of Starbucks, we had opted for a small café serving good cappuccino and salads and sandwiched. The coffee was awesome and we were waiting for our sandwiches. However, conversation was awkward. Neither of us knew what to say to each other.

"So… um…" I began.

"Yeah," he said, tapping his fingers lightly against his mug.

"What are we playing in the show this year?" I questioned.

"I still haven't decided one hundred percent for sure but it'll either be West Side Story or a summer movie mix," he said. "Either way, there's still some nice horn stuff for you."

"Cool," I said.

A waitress put our sandwiches in front of us and we finally had something to do besides make exceptionally awkward conversation.

It would always be awkward because no matter what, nothing could ever happen between us.

* * *

:Ducks as dodges bullets: sorry.. I though this would be out sooner…


	10. X

I spent Friday with Serena and my friend Dakota who I hadn't seen all summer. That night I got a call from David, requesting to go out for coffee the next day and then to see the military band that was in town. I accepted and was waiting in jeans and a tee shirt when he came to pick me up

When he pulled into the driveway, I slid into the front seat of his car, the scents and sights all familiar from the times I'd ridden in it. David himself was dressed the way I was used to seeing him: jeans and a tee shirt, in this case an olive green shirt that I noticed brought out the flecks of gold in his warm brown eyes.

"Hey Fern," he greeted me.

"Hey David," I replied, buckling my seatbelt. "How are you?"

"Pretty good. I finally picked out all the music for the show," he said. "Summers movies it is. I had to arrange half that stuff we're playing though."

"Arranging is fun though," I answered vaguely.

"Yes it is," he agreed. "And our numbers are up from what you had last year. One twenty."

I surprised. It was twenty more people than we had had the previous year. I also knew three horn players were coming up from the middle school. "Awesome."

"I thought so,' he said. "The fact that there's a lot of brass and woodwinds and only a few percussionists will really help our sound."

"Yes it will," I agreed.

There was a very pregnant pause in the conversation. Both of us were still exceptionally tense around the other. It was awkward and I knew it would remain awkward for a very long time.

"So—"

"I—"

We looked over at each other and smiled.

"This is the Air Force band?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "They came down from Dover to perform in the park across the street from the coffee shop. I thought we'd get one of the outdoor tables."

"Sounds nice," I agreed. "I hear they're quite good."

"Excellent," he said. "If I hadn't gotten into teaching, I'd be playing with either the Air Force or the Navy band."

"But that would've been a waste," I said. "I for one am glad that you didn't enter the service."

"So am I," he agreed. "I love teaching. And I doubt I could've lasted basic training."

I laughed at that. Basic training wasn't that hard from what I had heard but some people couldn't take the heat.

He parked across the street and we dashed across, going inside to order two grande mocha lattes before taking our seats at a small table in the front garden overlooking the park where the band was setting up.

"You're off to Baltimore tomorrow, right?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'll be MIA for two weeks. It'll be fun though. Hopefully it'll get Mr. Spear to get off my back about doing Baltimore Academy full time in the school year."

"Baltimore Academy?" he probed.

"Yeah," I answered. "He wants me to go full time. He's given me man a lecture on reaching my potential and needing the best everything, including the best school which is of course Baltimore Academy."

"You're not going?" he inquired. I could see the fear of losing the best horn player in the state to a fancy school in his eyes. And the fear of something else too.

"No," I assured him. "Too expensive and I doubt they'll let me in now anyway. People are on the waiting list for months before they get in. Granted, spots open up fairly frequently since you can get kicked out for little things."

"Like how little?" he asked.

"Like not performing to standard or minor rule infractions. It's a tough school. Hardcore music studies and tough academics. I've seen the curriculum. It's not easy at all."

"Sounds like you'd be a shoo-in though," he told me.

I smiled. "Thanks but it is so tough to get in, I don't think I could," I replied. "I'm not even sure if I would want to. I mean, it's a long drive and everything I have is here. My family, my friends."

"I see what you mean," he told me. "Although I think you'd get in anyway."

We lapsed back into silence. David looked down into his mug of coffee before looking back up into my eyes. "Fern." He hesitated. "I think we need to talk about some important stuff."

"Like what?" I asked, having some idea of what was coming.

"We need to talk about what would be considered appropriate versus inappropriate behavior. As much as I wish it could be otherwise, we're in a teacher and student relationship, nothing more and it won't ever change. We've got to set boundaries."

I gulped and nodded. "Okay. Like what?"

"May I be frank?" at my nod he said, "No sex, no kissing, no excessive touching, no inappropriate talking."

"No romantic outings, no going to the movies together, no going out on dates," I added. "Anything else?"

"I think that's about it," he said. He smiled tensely. "Glad we're on the same page."

"Me too," I replied, sipping my coffee. "Do you ever think it'll be anything other than totally awkward?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't. But just as long as we don't cross the line, I think we'll be okay."

"That's what I figured you'd say," I replied. "And unfortunately, I think you're right."

He nodded, his smile being replaced by a slight frown that soon cleared away. "I think they're starting."

The concert lasted for about an hour, after which David drove me home.

"It wouldn't be an inappropriate behavior for me to give you a hug, would it?" I asked.

He shook his head and reached over to wrap his arms around me, holding me closer to his warm body. He released slightly before pressing his lips to mine. A look of horror and regret immediately passed over his features. "That, however, was a perfect example of inappropriate behavior."

"Are you ready to go?" Mom called up the stairs at eight AM on Sunday morning.

"Yeah Mom. I'll be down in a second!" I shouted back, throwing the last few things into my trunk. Music books? Check. Cell phone and other necessities in purse? Check. Digital Camera and laptop with all the equipment in trunk? Check. Instrument? Check. I was set. I just needed to put all of my stuff in the car. Mr. Harvey was going with mom and I to Baltimore.

"Come on Fern!" Mr. Harvey yelled up the stairs as I started lugging my things down. "We're going to be late!"

"I'm coming!" I replied tersely. "Can't you see me? Laden with these heavy bags trying to make my way down the stairs?"

"Let me get that," he said with a sigh as he grabbed my trunk and carried it down the stairs for me. He placed it easily into the trunk of Mom's black Altima, followed by my horn and music stand. I went inside to get my travel mug of coffee then slid into the back seat, spreading the black fleece blanket over my legs, my purse beside me on the seat.

"Everybody ready?" my mom asked, inserting the key in the ignition.

"I am," I said.

"So am I," Mr. Harvey said.

Mom started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. Soon we were on the highway, well on our way to Baltimore. It was a gray day, the rain hitting the asphalt with a gentle pitter-patter. It wasn't anything like the bright sunshine from the day before. I smiled when I remembered the feel of his lips on mine before frowning, knowing it was wrong and couldn't happen again. He was a teacher, I was a student. No matter how right it felt, it was wrong. Sighing inwardly, I opened the book on my lap and began reading. It was the easy way to pass the time on the way to Baltimore although I had the feeling it would go by too fast. I was nervous to be going to a camp with so many accomplished musicians. I was used to being the very best. Still, I knew it was going to be an awesome two weeks.

"Alexandria Scott?" the person at the check out said, looking through the packets laid out on the table. "Ah. You're the French horn. It's nice to meet you. You're in the Carpenter residence hall, room 4C. You're lucky. Nice roommate and a private bath. Unpack your stuff and then report to the main music building, room 105 for your seating audition. Make sure to bring your solo and instrument with you. Next please!"

I stepped away from the table so the next girl with an oboe case could check in. Mr. Harvey followed with my trunk and my mom trailed carrying my horn with her cell phone attached to her ear. We walked across the courtyard to the nearest residence hall and went up to the second floor. The door was already open, revealing a tall thin girl putting sheets on one of the twin beds, her flute case sitting atop one of the desks. I pushed the door open.

"Hi, I'm Fern," I greeted her.

She turned with a big smile on her face. "Hey! I'm Kat. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," I said as Mr. Harvey and my mom dropped my luggage on the floor. It was a fairly spacious room with two twin beds, two desks, two wardrobes, and two dressers with light blue walls and dark blue carpet. "Have you been here before?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'm a student during the school year too."

"Cool," I said. "You'll have to show me around. It's my first time."

"Fern," Mr. Harvey interrupted. "Do you want us to stay?"

I shook my head. "I can take it from here." I gave him and mom each a hug and bid them farewell before opening my trunk to get my sheets and blankets out.

"I'm guessing by the case that you're a French horn player," she said.

I nodded. "Yeah. I take lessons from Mr. Spear. That's the main reason why I'm here."

She looked mildly impressed. "You're first name wouldn't happen to be Alexandria, would it?" she asked.

"Yeah," I told her. "How'd you know?"

"I take from Mrs. Spellman, a good friend of Mr. Spear and she was telling me about how he's been talking about this horn player named Alexandria," she informed me, "Says you're hot stuff."

I snorted. "He doesn't make it seem that way to me," I told her. "All he does is complain when I'm in the room."

"He's getting you used to criticism," she replied knowingly. "You'll get used to it soon enough. Mrs. Spellman is like that too. Eventually you come to understand that if they didn't think you were good enough, they wouldn't take the time to teach you."

"Still," I said. "Tough transition from my old teacher who was heavy with the compliments."

She shrugged, smoothing a dark green bedspread over her bed. "Well, he does talk about you and I know you have to be really really good in order for them to even consider sending you here." She placed her pillows at the head of her bed then began helping me with my bedspread before placing clothes in drawers and hanging her performance outfit in one of the wardrobes. When we had both unpacked, we went down to the music hall together and signed the audition sheet.

I warmed up with my scales and played over one of the more difficult sections of my audition solo, the part they would surely select for me to play for them. Kat went in before me and came out shrugging nonchalantly.

"How'd it go?" I asked.

"First so far," she told me. "But there are a few more to go. Looks like you're up. Good luck. You'll do great."

I went into the room and shut the door. Three judges sat in chairs along one wall, each with a score sheet and pencil. Mr. Spear was one of them.

"Miss. Scott," a man with a stern face and iron gray mustache said. "Please hand me your solo so the judges can select a section for you to play."

I walked over, my sneakers making squeaking sounds against the polished marble floors, and handed him the music. They looked over it for a minute, looked back at me, then pointed toward two sections: a beautiful andante section and the difficult section I'd been practicing to warm up on. "Play them," he commanded.

I nodded and took my seat, placing my music on the stand. Gulping air, I pressed my horn to my lips and played as well as I possibly could. I don't think I had ever played that piece as well as I did in that audition room and I never played it that well again.

The man with the moustache looked at me severely. "Young lady," he said. "You cleared the former first chair by fifty points. Well done."

"Thank you sir," I said.

"You'll receive your music when the official list is issued," he informed me. "Now you have some free time until three o'clock. You may go to the commons, your room, or the mart."

"Thank you," I repeated, exiting the room.

"Well?" Kat asked as I placed my horn in my case.

I looked up and smiled. "First chair by fifty points."

"That's awesome!" she exclaimed. "Ooh! Angela is going to be so mad! She's been first chair for the past two years. She's a bitch though so I'm glad you beat her."

"She sounds… charming," I said.

"Yes indeed," Kat replied. "I don't think anyone really likes her. She's that nasty."

"So where do we go from here?" I asked, placing the shoulder strap of my instrument over my back.

"I thought we'd go to the mart and get some snacks for the room," she suggested. "That way we don't have to go to the commons if we have any late-night food cravings."

"Sounds right," I said. "Let's take our instruments back to our room first though. This thing is a little big to haul around every where."

We walked back to the residence hall and put out instruments up before grabbing out purses.

"Alexandria?" a haughty voice said from the open door.

I turned to see a tall, model thin girl with a long black braid staring at me with an angry look on her face. I took one guess that it was Angela. "Yes?" I replied.

"You know, just because you take lessons from Mr. Spear and got first chair does not make you hot stuff. I'll be talking to the directors about this, believe me. First chair is mine." With her braid flying, she left the room.

"Ignore her," Kat told me. "Sour grapes. Mr. Spear gave up on her. He told her she had no finesse and no individual style. She can pay but it's all technical stuff. That's why you beat her by a landslide."

"That's what I intend on doing," I said. "I get a lot of that in state band. People who think that they're better because they're from fancy upstate schools."

"There's no point," she said. "Come on, let's go."

We walked down to the small campus store and purchased water, sodas, and lots and lots of junk food. I also bought several bottles of frappicino and some granola bars.

"You drink that stuff?" she asked, looking at the bottles of coffee, as we walked back to our room.

"Yeah," I said. "I've been addicted since the age of twelve."

"It'll ruin your instrument," she reminded me.

"I know," I said. "That's why I brush my teeth after drinking."

I was already at ease with Kat. We were getting along famously. I could sense that we would become very good friends. As we finished setting things up in the room, I knew that even without all the band and music stuff, we'd have had a great week together. She was a cool girl and reminded me of some people back home.

It was also hard for me to believe that I had beat out a girl who had been going there for years for first chair by a large margin, no less. That had to say something. I had seen the smile on Mr. Spears face as I left the audition room. He had known all along what chair I'd be in. Even if he didn't tell me, I knew he believed in me.

As Kat and I walked out of the hall towards the commons, I could see Angela walking ahead of us, flanked by two other girls. She hated me already, I could tell. It wasn't just about beating her, it was about pride and jealousy. It would be interesting to have her sitting beside me as second chair. It would be a very interesting week indeed.

So yeah. I wanted to get this done before band camp. Little did I realize that I would write the entire thing in one sitting. Thanks for all the lovely reviews. I will try not to take too long to write chapter eleven. Til next time!


	11. XI

Music was handed out in the common room, followed by an hour-long sectional practice. The entire time, Angela shot me looks of pure hatred. Having already seen the music and practiced it prior to the rehearsal, I found it to be quite easy. With pleasure, I noted that I had a solo in three of the seven pieces. As I exited the practice studio, two of the other French horn players caught up with me: a tall guy with messy black hair and a shorter black girl with wild hair and playful eyes. The guy I knew was third chair and the girl was fifth.

"Don't let Angela get to you," The guy said.

"She's jealous," the girl added.

"Thanks for the tip," I said.

"I'm Monica," the girl said. "And he's Boyce. And before you ask—because everyone always does—yes, we are dating."

"Nice to meet you both. I'm Fern," I replied.

"Nice. An original name," Boyce said. "I like it. Almost as much as I like the way you play that horn. Where did you learn to play like that?"

"Two years of lessons and a recent switch of instructors," I informed him. "You aren't so shabby yourself, I might add. Our little duet thing on 'Air' is going to sound pretty awesome."

He shrugged. "I do what I can."

"I don't audition well," Monica said. "I can practice until my ears bleed and I can play the music in my sleep but I just don't audition well."

"I know how you feel," I replied. "I don't test well."

Monica smiled as we walked towards the food court. "Almost the same thing."

"It really is a shame," Boyce said. "She's better than me but I always get a higher chair."

"Aw, thanks pookie," she replied, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Even if it isn't true."

"Yes it is."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"No it's not."

"Ah, Fern. I see you've met the resident disgusting couple," Kat said, coming up beside me.

"Indeed I have," I replied.

"Come on. It's time to get some food. After dinner is 'Getting to know you time,'" she said.

"Sounds good," I said, lugging my French horn along with me to the dining hall. In the lobby of the hall, there were instrument lockers so I shoved my horn into the one with my name over it and continued inside. Much to my relief, the food court's selection was huge and I had plenty of vegetarian stuff to choose from.

I grabbed a tray and got in line. On my plate, I piled a mound of French fries, a grilled cheese sandwich, a big bowl of ice cream, a piece of cake, and a large diet soda before sitting down at a table with Kat, Monica, Boyce, and several other people I didn't know.

"How do you eat like that and remain skinny as a rail?" Kat asked, looking at my dinner.

I shrugged. "Swimming, marching, running from place to place. And a good metabolism. I'd hardly call myself skinny anyway. I have a bubble butt."

The guy sitting next to me unabashedly took a look and snorted. "Hardly sweetie. You're what we like to call 'curvacious.' And you want to be curvacious darling. You've got the rack for it too."

I looked at him like he was crazy.

"Don't mind John, Fern," Kat told me. "He's the resident female appraiser. You apparently have high stock."

"What can I say?" he asked. "I'm a male flutist. I'm surrounded by beautiful women on a regular basis and I know what's hot and what's not."

A girl with a long brown braid halfway down her back threw a roll at him. "And what kind of stock do I get?"

"None," he said. "I don't like bassoonists."

"That's instrumental profiling!" she said.

"I know, Kristy," John replied.

She threw a string bean at him—part of the carnivorous platter.

"I'm Fern," I offered to the small Asian girl sitting across from me.

She smiled. "I know. I'm the eighth chair French horn. Don't worry, I'm used to people not remembering me. I'm really quiet. My name is Tara."

I smiled at her. "You room with Monica, right?"

She nodded. "We're good friends at the Academy."

"Does anyone besides me at this table not go to the academy?" I asked.

No one raised their hand.

"I'll take that to mean that I'm a minority here," I said.

They nodded.

"It's hard to get in if you don't go here normally. Or at least have sway with an instructor," Kristy said. "It's because they want to keep the bad out and get only the best. Which, if you beat Angela, means you fit the category. The question is, however, what made them let you in?"

"Easy," Boyce said. "She's a French horn. Tell me, do you take lessons with Mr. Spear?"

I nodded, dipping one of my fries into the ketchup.

"That explains it," Monica said. "He has more sway than anyone else on the board and he knows talent when he sees it."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Well, not only did you, the rookie, score first chair but he saw Angela for what she is," Kat said.

"And what would that be?" I questioned.

"A technical virtuoso but underneath a crappy player. She has no style, no technique, and no poise. However, on most audition score sheets, the technical stuff weighs higher than the stylistic stuff. You'll see when we all get our score sheets after orientation tonight. I bet you ranked fairly high in all areas whereas she ranked way up in technical and way low in style."

I shrugged, finishing off my grilled cheese sandwich before speaking. "Some people value technique over style."

"In lower levels, yeah," John said. "But beyond intermediate, everyone has good technical know-how and they have to find some way to separate the good from the 'damn! That's the best I've ever heard that piece play. First chair for her!' players. Angela is good. You fall in the second category."

"You haven't even heard me play," I pointed out.

"I don't have to," he said. "You beat Angela."

"I haven't even heard her play that much," I confessed. "So I really don't know what the hype is."

Everyone shrugged and continued to eat before a small woman I knew as the director of the camp stood on a chair and waved her arms for silence.

"Good evening everyone. I'm Dr. Wright and after everyone has emptied their trays, we will meet in the concert hall for introductions. You have five minutes to get there. Double demerits if you are late."

I got up from the table and dumped my tray in the trashcan before heading out the door and toward the concert hall. Boyce and Monica were right along side me while Kat and Tara waited for someone. We walked inside and sank down into the plush blue chairs in the front row. Everyone else filed in within the next three minutes. Everyone took Dr. Wright's orders seriously.

She walked down the aisle and onto the stage.

"All right guys, there are about 120 people here so this is going to take a while. Everyone gets 45 seconds to introduce themselves. We'll start with you."

I followed her finger to Monica. She stood up.

"Hey all. Most of you know me. My name is Monica. I play the French horn and I attend here during the school year. I'm rooming with Tara and my boyfriend is Boyce."

Boyce stood up. "Hi. I'm Boyce. I'm fortunate enough to have Monica as my girlfriend. I also play the French horn and attend here during the school year. I hope that I will further my playing ability this week."

It was my turn. "Hi," I said. "My name is Alexandria but no one calls me that. Alex or Fern please. I play the French horn as well. No, I don't attend hear during the school year. I go to Blades High School in Delaware. I'm rooming with Kat and during my stay, I would like to do the best job I can." I say down but I could hear a few people whispering. I could make out what the two girls behind me were saying.

"That's the one who beat Angie."

"I know. I can't believe it. Angie plays better than anyone I know."

"Favoritism. She takes lessons from Mr. Spear and he apparently loves her."

"I don't know. I don't think that they'd allow it. After all, that's what Angie complained about and they told her she was being stupid."

"I really don't know. I haven't heard her play yet. After all, we are but clarinetists."

Then my heart nearly stopped when I heard someone in the row behind me introducing themselves.

"Hi. My name is Rob. I play the bass clarinet. I used to attend this school but I will start at Blades High School come fall. I am Fern's boyfriend although neither of us realized the other was coming this week. How odd. You'd think we'd share this information. Anyway, this week I would like to work on my lower register."

My jaw hit the floor. I could not believe that he was there. My new boyfriend was also at one of the most prestigious summer music programs in the country.

Boyce poked me in the ribs. "You didn't tell us you had a boyfriend."

"We've only been dating for two weeks," I explained.

"Aw that's so cute!" Boyce said. "Your little boyfriend is looking at you with a sappy look on his face. You might want to go over there."

And that was what I did. Dr. Wright was talking to Mr. Spear so I crouched down and walked carefully and quietly to the row behind me, sitting down next to Rob.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, whispering.

"Same as you," he replied. "I heard about you beating Angela but I couldn't find you until you made your introduction." He leaned forward slightly and kissed the tip of my nose. "How are you sweetie?"

"Better now that you're here," I said. "Angela and her cronies hate me but I have found some cool people to talk to."

"Angela's good. I won't say that's she's bad or anything," Rob said. "But considering the margin you beat her by, she's nothing compared to you. And…um… I might want to tell you this also… Angela is my ex-girlfriend. We only dated for a month but she remembers all too well. I was hoping Mr. Spear would get fed up with her and make sure she didn't get in this year."

"If only," I replied. "She hates me for beating her."

"She doesn't hate you," Rob reasoned. "She has simply developed a vehement dislike of you and is jealous based on the fact that you beat her in auditions and are dating her ex-boyfriend."

"You make it sound so much better," I joked.

"I try," he answered with a smile. He wrapped his arms around me and I rested my head against his shoulder as we slunk down low so people couldn't see us. We shared quite a few kisses before sitting up and listening as other people introduced themselves.

"Where's your room?" I asked when we were dismissed and given our score sheets.

"The floor above yours. But don't sneak out tonight. They check the first two nights. After that, they don't bother. I'll come get you in the morning at 7:30. Make sure you're ready because French horns usually start the earliest so you need to get to breakfast first."

"Breakfast doesn't start until 7:45," I pointed out.

"I know," he said with a smile. "I'm taking into account… certain detours we'll be taking."

"Ah, I see," I said. "We're still in the completely disgusting to outsiders, can't take our hands off each other, touchy-feely, lovey-dovey part of out relationship."

"Yes, indeed," he replied, taking my hand. We were just outside my door. He leaned down slightly and kissed me so thoroughly, I saw stars in my eyes. I smiled at him before I stepped inside my room.

"Good night Rob," I said.

"Good night Fern," I replied.

Kat shrieked at me when she came in. "Rob is you're boyfriend?" she demanded.

"Yeah," I replied.

"He's totally cute! And totally awesome. You two are perfect for each other!" she exclaimed.

I smiled at her before opening my laptop and connecting my Ethernet cable to the wall. I signed onto the internet and checked my inbox. I had one from Mr. Harvey, two from David, one from Dakota, and one from Serena. I ignored them all, as none were marked urgent and signed onto AIM. David was on.

Tubaman: Hi Fern

Frenchhornfern: hello

Tubaman: how's camp going so far?

Frenchhornfern: I love it.

Tubaman: what chair did you get?

Frenchhornfern: first over this really bitchy girl.

Tubaman: that's great! Congrats!

Frenchhornfern:

Tubaman: band camp won't be nearly as competitive.

Frenchhornfern: I know. But at least there'll be six horns this year. Im so happy!

Tubaman: I know. It's great.

Frenchhornfern: you got that right.

Tubaman: I might have to come to Baltimore for the concerts.

Frenchhornfern: please do.

Tubaman: I will. I know it'll be fantastic.

Frenchhornfern: you got that right?

Tubaman: I'll be there. The first one is on Saturday, right?

Frenchhornfern: right. That's the solo concert.

Tubaman: I'll see you there. You'll be the star.

Frenchhornfern: hardly. There are some awesome musicians here.

Tubaman: what did you expect? It's a prestigious program.

Frenchhornfern: true

Tubaman: anyway, I have to go. I'll see you Saturday.

Frenchhornfern: alrighty. Bye David.

"Who's that?" Kat said, looking over my shoulder.

"My band director," I explained. "He and I are pretty good friends."

"That's great," she said. "I'm going to get a shower and go to bed. Are you taking a shower in the morning?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm going to shower after you."

She nodded and walked into our bathroom while I turned back to the screen and began closing things down. While I waited for her to finish her shower, I laid down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. It was going to be an interesting two weeks sitting next to Angela. She loathed me although she hardly knew me.

"Your turn," Kat said, walking out of the bathroom, her hair dripping wet.she grabbed a brush from her dresser.

I gathered my shower things and walked into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, I emerged to see Kat in bed with all the lights except my desk lamp turned off. Sitting down at my desk again, I opened my journal and began writing.

I really can't believe Rob is here. He never mentioned anything about being away for two weeks. I informed him I'd be going to a music camp for two weeks and he never said anything. How strange…anyway, it's going to be a really great week. I can tell already.

XxXxXxXxX

As promised, Rob came to find me at 7:30 the next morning. We walked to breakfast together but before we reached the dining hall, he pulled me toward a little alcove between a vending machine and a bush. He pressed me up against the wall and started kissing me. I loved the way his lips felt on mine. I loved feelings his hands running up my sides and the base of my neck. I loved his tongue in my mouth. Oh David!

Had I really though that name even as I was kissing Rob? I pulled back slightly?

"What's wrong?" he asked, brows furrowing.

I smiled and shook my head. "Nothing. We've got ten more minutes."

He restarted his assault on my senses. The smell of his hair, the sound of his breathing, the feel of his hands on my body. It was all blended together.

"Alex!"

I looked up startled to see Mr. Spear staring at us.

I imagine I looked something like a deer caught in the headlights.

"I expected better of you!" he shouted at me. "You could get expelled from the program for this! Do you want that? Do you? Because Robbie and I have worked too hard to get you to where you are, never mind all the work that you've put in yourself to let you mess it all up!"

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Sorry isn't good enough!" he shouted. "Now get your butt inside that dining hall, eat your breakfast, and get yourself to my studio the second you finish eating. If I find you like that again, you're expelled. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," I replied.

"Good," he said. He pointed at Rob. "And you sir! If you get in her way or mine, you're out of here in a second."

We both nodded and walked shamefaced into the dining hall to get our breakfasts. Indeed, it would be an interesting two weeks.

XxXxXxXxX

dodges flying reeds Sorry for the looong wait. Next time, bug me more. Okay? Good. So… hope you enjoyed and REVIEW!


	12. XII

I was scared to death of what Mr. Spear was going to say to me in his office. So scared, in fact that I barely managed to choke down a cup of coffee and run to the bathroom to brush my teeth before I walked to his studio. He was waiting for me with a grim look on his face.

"Sit," he commanded, pointing at the chair where I had sat for so many lessons.

I followed his orders, folding my hands in my lap and staring at them, bracing myself for what I knew was coming. His earlier outburst had only been a preview of what was to come.

"Alexandria, Do you want to play the French horn or do you want to be a French horn player?" he asked me in a calm voice.

"I want to be a French horn player," I told him, not entirely sure what the difference was.

"You don't know what I'm talking about," he said. There was no question in his voice. He sighed. "Alex, someone who plays the French horn is someone who is average to good. They can play almost anything easily. That's where you are. A French horn player is a true master of the instrument, someone who loves the instrument, and someone who is dedicated to the music. I'll ask the question again. Do you want to be someone who plays the French horn or do you want to be a French horn player?"

"I want to be a French horn player," I said firmly.

"Then act like you want to!" he shouted, his calm tone disappearing. "God damn it Alex! You have more skill, more talent, and more potential then anyone your age I've ever met. I can't seem to get that through your skull! It's partly my fault, I suppose. I criticize more than I praise but it doesn't make it less true! Alex, I got the board to let you in the first place. Then I got them to provide you with a scholarship so you would pick this over Julliard. I did all that for you! Not only that but the board had agreed that pending an audition and the end result of these two weeks, you will be allowed in as a full time student. I did all this for you and how exactly do you repay me? You risk everything by standing out where people can see you making out with your little boyfriend! My God Alex! Have some sense at least! If you insist on carrying on like such—which I do NOT condone in the lease by the way—then do it in a way that you won't get caught! Or don't do it at all! Aside from potential problems that we will not discuss right now, that boy will be nothing but trouble for you! He used to attend here, I know him. He was a day student and he was so close to being thrown out many times. I don't want you dating him but I can't prevent it. According to Robbie, you have a good head on your shoulders. USE IT! Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," I said, avoiding his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Look at me!" he said. "And never say you're sorry. Just change what you're doing wrong. Now Alex… Do you understand?"

I looked up into his piercing eyes, so filled with contempt and anger but also hope. They were daring me to so no but I did understand so I nodded and said, "Yes sir. I understand."

He seemed almost to deflate. He nodded and looked at his watch. "Go get your horn and your music and be back in fifteen minutes for sectionals. You'll get your official schedule today. I believe you are signed up for the composition class as your elective. I know you have practice studio right after sectionals. Then you have composition before lunch. Now go. I want you back on time."

"Yes sir," I said, dashing off.

XxXxXxXxX

I placed my French horn in its case after the sectional rehearsal and gathered my music up, preparing to go down to the practice studio block in the next building.

"Good job on the duet in 'Air' Fern and Boyce. You did well," Mr. Spear said.

I was shocked at the compliment. He hardly ever said anything like that. I was so shocked that I didn't even say think you before exiting the studio. As I turned the corner of the hall, Rob came up beside me and placed an arm around me shoulders. He had a worried look on his face.

"What did he say?" Rob asked.

"A lot of stuff," I replied. "Mostly about my dedication to playing the French horn. He's right. He didn't forbid me to see you though. He just told me to be discreet and not get caught. Although he does not exactly condone me seeing you, he hasn't forbid it."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good. I'd ask to share a practice room but we both know that isn't a good idea," he said.

"No, it's not," I said as we entered the practice block. Before he went off to the woodwind section and I to the brass section he stopped me.

"A little kiss is okay, right?" he asked, looking down at me.

I smiled and closed my eyes as he dipped his head forward kissing me softly before we went our separate ways.

"So," a voice behind me said. "You just want to be me don't you?"

I turned to see Angela standing behind me.

"You want my chair. You want my ex-best friend. You want my ex-boyfriend. You want to take lessons from my former teacher," she continued, sauntering toward me. "Well sorry sweetie. You will never be me. You will never be anything like me. You will never be as good as me at anything. Just look at you. You take it all second hand. You're nothing but a copying loser."

I looked at her levelly before striding past. As I walked, I said, "Think what you will Angela. But understand that it isn't all about you or me."

I walked into the practice studio and my hands began to shake. I had handled the true confrontation that I had feared and I had not let her get the best of me. That was good.

In a minute, my hands stopped shaking and I opened my horn case. Setting my tuner and metronome on the stand, I began to play through my scales and opened the notebook where all my assignments were posted. Mr. Spear had told me to go through the lip trill section of one of my books, the solo I'd auditioned on, and the three solos I would be playing at the concert. I was so absorbed in what I was doing, I barely noticed the time passing. I had never practiced so intensely. It had to do with being in a room free of distractions. The walls were painted a calming shade of blue with a padded ceiling, floor, and one wall. The only things in the room were a chair, music stand, and table, aside from what I had brought in with me. Before I knew it, it was 11:30 and according to my schedule, Composition time.

I walked to an unfamiliar building. I had never been inside it before but I knew it was the vocal music building. I was a fair singer but nothing that would merit being enrolled in a vocal program. Instrumental music was my passion. However, the composition lab was in that building so that was where I needed to be. I managed to get lost twice in the sea of polished white marble before arriving to class two minutes late, flushed and breathless from running.

"Well," the teacher said. "Who is this?"

"Fern—Scott!" I huffed out.

"Very well, very well," he said, pushing me toward an open computer.

As I was sitting down he stopped me.

"Wait just a second there young lady! You were late. I however do not give demerits. I give public humiliation. Sing 'I'm a little teapot' in the key of A flat. I will give you your starting pitch." He tapped a note on the keyboard. "Go!"

And I began. "I'm a little teapot short and stout." I did the arm motions. "Here is my handle. Here is my spout…" Oh the humiliation! The whole class stared at me while I reddened and continued singing. When I was finally finished, I took my seat and stared at the keyboard hooked up to my computer.

"Now," the teacher said. "Lets get on with this. I am Dr. Jacobs. You will call me Dr. Jacobs and nothing else. I will teach you to write music for the band and orchestra. Now everyone who has ever written music for their band, please raise your hand."

I did, thinking of the CD in my purse.

"Good," he said. "Does anyone have fore-mentioned music with them in hopes to impress the teacher?"

I sheepishly kept my hand raised with two other people.

"I'll take what you have," he said.

I handed him my CD while the other two handed over floppy disks and printed scores. To my surprise, he immediately popped on of the floppy disks into his computer and opened the score. He began playing it.

As I listening, I noticed a few errors, some wrong notes and bad chords. I also took note of some confusion with the melody and counter melody. However, the ending was beautiful.

"Hm," Dr. Jacobs said. "Not as bad as some things I've heard before but you need to know theory before you can write music."

He put in the next disk and let us listen to it. The piece was long. The chords and notes were correct but it was fairly boring as far as the melodic stuff went.

"Opposite end of the spectrum," he said. "You know theory but you have to imagination to make it beautiful. Dream, girl."

The girl he was referring to blushed and looked away.

Then he placed my CD in the player. It was the same piece I had let Mr. Harvey listen to on the way to my first French horn lesson. As it played, I cringed at a few places where I noticed wrong notes and some poor selections of who to give the part to. However, I glowed when the beautiful lyrical section was played. I had slaved over that section for days, trying to get the arrangement just right. When the seven-minute piece was done playing, he nodded.

"Better than the other two," Dr. Jacobs said. "Although I was with you every time you cringed. Minor details though. You have the idea but you need to refine it, Miss. Late-to-class. Everyone! Please open Music Theory for the Instrumentalist on your computer and do lessons one and two before this class is over in twenty minutes. Miss. Late-to-class, I would like you to open the score file on the CD and edit the chords in the first section until you are satisfied before you do your lessons. Get to work!"

We all began working on the assignments, myself opening the program and looking over the chords. That was it! I had given the fourth horns the wrong progression. I corrected it and played it back. Perfect! Dr. Jacobs nodded.

"Good," he said. "You figured it out. Take the time to check things before you declare it finished. Now go on to your lessons."

Dr. Jacobs was an interesting character. He was serious one moments, playful the next. He was like an intricate puzzle of many different colored pieces that just had to be put together in the right order to make sense. I was almost disappointed to pack my things up at one for lunch. Almost was the key word. After lunch, my free time lasted until five o'clock, at which time was group rehearsal until six thirty. After rehearsal came my lesson, then dinner. After dinner was more free time, which I knew exactly, how I'd be spending: with Rob off somewhere we couldn't be caught making out.

I wished we could spend more time together but he had mornings off and I had afternoons. Granted, it would allow me to do more things I needed to do. I needed to check out the library and the bookstore, as well as take a swim since I was dying to see their Olympic size swimming pool.

At lunch, I sat with Rob, Kat, and John who was eyeing Kat curiously. I wasn't sure what it meant but I had my suspicions. However, as I ate my lunch with Rob's arm around my shoulder, I could feel Mr. Spear's eyes boring into my back. I knew what he was thinking and I didn't like it one bit.

XxXxXxXxX

The official day of classes was over and it was after dinner. Rob and I walked outside in the fading daylight, hand in hand. I could feel his warmth, as well as my own. I loved the feeling. I wanted nothing more than to walk with him at that moment in time. It was so nice to be adored by someone so completely. Even if I wasn't completely sure if I felt that way for him, he knew he did. I admired his confidence in himself and in his feelings. I however didn't trust my own fingers, much less my own heart. When I kissed him, I felt sparks but nothing like the fire of kissing David. Not even close.

But what I had with David was nonexistent. It would never be anything more than I foolish dream. It was best to forget about it.

Rob lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles. "What are you thinking about?" he asked.

I suddenly felt guilty about thinking about another guy while with my boyfriend. "Not a lot," I lied. "Just some music stuff."

"Perhaps I can distract you," he said, sitting down on a park bench. He kissed me. We made out for a good thirty minutes, the last few of which my shirt had gradually been edged up for his hands to explore. Things had been moving quite fast for us lately. I wondered how long it would be before he got up my shirt. Shaking my head slightly, I took his hand and walked back toward the dorms. There were other more important things to think about besides when my boyfriend was going to feel me up. I needed to figure out what I needed to do to make Mr. Spear happy with me. Aside from giving up on all men, going without a social life, and spending all of my waking hours thinking of only playing my horn, I had no idea how to please him. Was it even possible?

I didn't know.

I was so full of doubts and fears. I had no idea what to do with myself. I guessed I'd have to just wait and see what would happen. And did things ever happen.

XxXxXxXxX

So yeah…

I decided to work on the next chapter… and it came out in one evening… don't you feel lucky?

So, read, review, and annoy me so I'll update faster.


	13. XIII

Note: Just in case there is confusion, Alex and Fern are the same person. As stated in one of the previous chapters, Mr. Spear doesn't call her Fern.

"I'm going to go out of character for a second," Mr. Spear announced at my private lesson Thursday morning. He placed his hand on the back of my chair and looked at the music on my stand. "Pick your own solo for the concert on Saturday. You earned it. Only the top three performers from each section get to perform so the concert doesn't last forever. Choose wisely. I will change it if it's unacceptable. I need to know what you're playing after dinner tonight."

I stared at him in shock.

"Believe it or not, I do care and I do value your opinion," he told me.

"I know that but you've never let me pick anything myself before," I said.

"Don't get used to it," he said severely. "Now go eat lunch and enjoy your free time this afternoon. The group rehearsal is only an hour long today and tomorrow so you have extended free time. Don't waste it but have some fun."

I nodded. "Thank you."

He shooed me out the door and I walked toward the dining hall. After putting my horn in my locker, I got into the line. There was some kind of seafood salad wrap I took off the main line. Then I grabbed a huge plate of fries and a massive ice cream sundae before taking my seat between John and Rob.

"Your ass looks wonderful in those jeans," John said, blatantly staring. "They do miracles."

"Um. Thanks?" I said.

"You're welcome honey," John said.

"And how does my ass look?" Kristy said, waving her butt in his face. "Feel free to kiss it while you examine it."

John smacked her butt and Kristy sat down in his lap, grabbing one of his fries. To my surprise, John wrapped his arms around her waist and reached in front of her to grab his cheeseburger.

"Hey, give me some attention," Rob said, faking a pout.

I smiled and leaned over to kiss him. His arm went behind my back.

"Aw. You two are too cute," Monica said as Boyce kissed her cheek.

I looked pointedly back at her.

She laughed. "Boyce and I are old new," she said. "But you two are merely at the three week mark and therefore in the disgusting, all-over each other phase."

Rob and I looked at each other and smiled. His arm remained wrapped around my waist as we ate our lunches and we kissed again before going our separate ways.

I walked back to the dorms. In order to choose a solo, I needed to think and to think, I needed a hot bubble bath. I began filling the tub in the bathroom up with hot water and vanilla scented bubbles. Undressing and grabbing a stack of music, I carefully climbed in, making sure to avoid getting the music wet.

I flipped through the stack, finding nothing very interesting. Then I came upon my book of Mozart's horn concertos. None of them were exceptionally difficult but the second one caught my eye. I had played it before and while it was not very difficult, sections were not very easy either. It was perfect. Just in case Mr. Spear rejected that selection, I chose another, more difficult piece as well. Once that was taken care of, I relaxed back in the bubbles for a few more minutes.

I got out of the tub and dried off. Before I got dressed, I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair had grown a little longer since I'd had to cut it off. The stitches were out and the scar was fading. The memory was still clear though. I could feel the sousaphone slam into my chest. Memories were hard to get rid off. I could feel David's lips on mine. I could remember sitting on my Dad's knee while he taught me to read music when I was six. I could remember that day when I was in the seventh grade when my mom tearfully told her that my father had been killed in a car wreck. I remember tossing a single white rose onto the casket as the tears slid down my face. Memory is a harsh thing. It plays tricks on you.

XxXxXxXxX

I sat down at a small table at an outdoor café just off campus. Monica had told me we were allowed to go there as long as we were on time getting back. It was a short walk to Eristay, as the café was called. I went inside and purchased a grande vanilla cappuccino and a hot fudge sundae before sitting down at a small table out front. I had brought my laptop with me so I opened it up to my score and began listening to it. After correcting a few chord errors, I listened to it over again as I sipped my coffee. The process was never ending, it seemed.

"Alex?"

I looked up to see Mr. Spear standing above me.

"Hi," I said. "Caffeine addict. I can't help it."

He cracked a smile. "I understand. I'm one myself." He held up a cup of coffee so I could see it. "What's that you're working on."

"Oh! Nothing important," I said. "Just a piece I wrote. It needs more chord work."

"Can I hear it?" he asked.

"Um. Sure," I responded. I hit the playback button.

He nodded along with it and cringed at a few places where I hadn't finished fixing the chords. I could tell he liked the section that highlighted the horns.

"Overall, nice," he said. "The chords need work."

"I know," I said. "That's what I've been working on for the past two ho—oh crap! I'm going to be late to rehearsal!"

I jumped up from the table, closing the computer and stuffing it back in the bag and grabbing my coffee to sprint off toward campus.

"Hold on," Mr. Spear said, grabbing my elbow. "Since I found you, I'll give you a ride. Come on. My car is parked right over there."

"Why are you being so nice?" I asked suspiciously. "First you let me pick my own music and now you're offering me a ride rather than telling me to take responsibility for my own mistakes. Are you sick? Are you dying and trying to make peace?"

We climbed into his car. A Mercedes.

"No, nothing is wrong," he asked. "Something is just very right."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I can't tell you yet," he said. "Not until Saturday."

"Okay," I said.

He drove up to the rehearsal building to let me out.

"I don't have my instrument," I told him.

"Mine is in the back seat. You can use it for this practice," he said. "Be very very careful please."

"Thank you," I said, not believing what he had said. "Whatever happened must have been really good."

"It is Alex," he told me. "Now don't be late! Do not get any demerits!"

I grabbed the instrument from the backseat and scurried to the rehearsal room, all my things in hand and got in a minute early; just time enough to take Mr. Spears horn out of the case and take my seat.

While we waited for Dr. Wright, I got the chance to look over it. It was a beautiful horn, much nicer than mine. It was a silver Conn descant horn, lacquered in silver and polished to perfection. There was a leather hand guard to protect the metal and there was not a single dent or scratch on the instrument. It was gorgeous.

"That isn't your instrument," Angela said.

"Good job Sherlock," I said calmly.

"Whose is it?" she demanded.

"I don't see how it's your business but its Mr. Spears," I informed her.

"And why are you playing his instrument?" she asked.

"What are you? A reporter? Mine is back in my locker and I was running late so he told me to use his," I said.

Just then, Dr. Wright tapped her baton on the stand. "F concert!" she said.

We began playing and I could feel Angela's eyes on me. The horn in my hands had such a beautiful tone quality. It was amazing.

Angela kept staring at me while I played and it was somewhat unnerving. We played through all the pieces once before packing up for dinner.

Angela shot me a dirty look as I went to hand the horn back to Mr. Spear. He looked at me thoughtfully.

"After listening to you play on that," he started, "I do believe you need a new instrument."

I shook my head. "I can't afford one right now. Mom won't buy me a new one until this one breaks and I need a car when I'm old enough."

He sighed. "I'll look for rentals."

"Thank you for letting me borrow yours," I said, handing it back to him.

"You're welcome," he said. "Now get to dinner and I expect to see you afterward with your music."

I nodded. "I've got it all picked out if you want to see it now," I offered.

"I would," he said.

I opened the book of music. "I was thinking I could do Mozart's second horn concerto. It isn't as difficult as some things I've been working on but it gives the opportunity for more expression. If it's unacceptable, then I have something else I can do."

He nodded. "It looks fine. In the future, choose something a little more difficult but based on all the markings you've made on the music, you know this fairly well and can play with expression. Just make sure you practice it during your free time tomorrow. You don't want to mess up on Saturday."

"Thank you sir," I said, closing the book and walking toward the dining hall.

"Hey baby," Rob said, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"Hey sweetie," I said, turning around to kiss him. PDA was common with us. The day prior, he had made it up my shirt. We were going really fast but it was okay. I loved every second of it.

"Tonight," he whispered in my ear. "Meet me in the group room in the dorms at midnight."

"Okay," I whispered back. We both got our dinners and sat down at the table with John, Kristy, Monica, Boyce, Kat, and a trumpet whose name I did not know. Kristy was sitting on John's lap again, stealing his French fries while he chowed down pasta. They were very cute together. Almost as cute as Boyce and Monica who were feeding each other dinner in between kisses. It seemed that love was in the air at our table.

When I had finished my dinner and was getting up to go get ice cream, Rob stopped me.

"No, I'll get it sweetie," he said, rushing off.

"You two are too cute," Monica said.

"I could say the same about you," I said.

"Like I've told you before, old news. Everybody has known about me and Boyce forever," she said.

I shrugged.

Kat smiled at me. "She's right. You two are overly cute. I wish I had a boyfriend like him."

"He I awesome," I said. "I can hardly believe we've only been dating for three weeks. It's really incredible."

"You seem like you've been together forever," Kat said. "You're that close even though you haven't known each other that long."

"I guess we're just lucky," I replied.

"That you are," Kat said.

Oh yes, we definitely were.

XxXxXxXxX

I didn't think too much about the fact that David was coming to the concert on Saturday until he called my cell phone while I was in my practice session. I had the phone on vibrate, so it wasn't like I would've gotten in trouble if it went off in class. I set down my horn to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hey Fern," the voice on the other end said.

"Hey David," I replied. "What's up?"

"What time is the concert tomorrow?" he asked.

"Seven," I replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm coming to see you," he replied, as if it were obvious.

In reality, it had been obvious because we had discussed it before. I just didn't remember it.

"Oh. Great," I replied.

"Definitely," he replied. "When do you get out of rehearsals for the day?"

"We don't have any on Saturday, except for a lesson in the morning. Mine is first thing, half an hour right after breakfast," I told him.

"Than do you mind if I come down a little early? We could get coffee before the concert," he suggested. "I know you're a caffeine addict."

I had been planning on spending the entirety of the day in town with Rob but I wasn't about to say no to coffee. "Sounds cool," I told him. "I know this great café close to campus."

"Perfect," he said. "Have you decided what you're playing yet?"

I laughed. "Of course I have. Do you think I would wait this long?"

"Well, no," he admitted. "But I was making conversation. So what are you playing?"

"Mozart's Second Horn Concerto," I informed him. "Mr. Spear actually let me pick my own music. It's a miracle."

"I'd say," he replied. "He seems really tough based on the little I've seen."

"He is," I confirmed. "Although he's been acting strangely nice lately. Something's up but he can't tell me until tomorrow."

"Any idea what it is?" he asked.

"None at all," I told him. "I'm really curious to find out."

"So am I," he said. "Unless it's—never mind. It couldn't be."

"It couldn't be what?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all."

"No, tell me what you think it might be," I demanded. "Come on David. Spill it before I force it out of you."

I heard him sigh. "He might be offering you a place in the academy during the school year."

"What?" I said in disbelief. I was half panicked. Attend full time? I wouldn't know what to do or how to make a decision!

"I don't think so but maybe," he said. "I guess we'll see."

"I guess we will," I said. "Listen, I really have to go. I'm in practice session right now and I need to work a few parts out."

"Sorry for interrupting you," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye David," I said, hitting the end call button.

I picked up my horn and began playing over my favorite section. I'd auditioned for all-state band on it as an eighth grader and loved it. The rest I wasn't as familiar with but it was all going amazingly well. I could hardly wait for the performance the following day. It would be an evening to remember.

XxXxXxXxX

"You have to choose something really nice to wear," Kat told me. "I know you brought stuff to wear that's perfect for the full band concert but for solo concert, you need something drop dead."

It was after dinner and Kat and I were choosing what we would wear to the concert.

"But may I point out that this is all I brought with me," I said. "And we aren't the same size."

Well, really we just weren't the same shape. Kat was beanpole tall and slender while I was petite and curvy.

She thought for a second. "How much money do you have with you?" she asked.

"Um. About two hundred in cash plus my MAC card," I said.

"Good," she replied. "Let's go." She grabbed my wrist.

"Wait, where are we going?" I asked.

"There's a store two blocks away. You need something to wear," she explained, dragging me out the door.

I followed her. "What if we get back too late?"

"Unless you are planning on some evening escapades with Rob, no one will notice or care. And we have three hours."

I followed her down the street. It was seven in the evening and still light out. We walked to a small boutique and she led me inside. Immediately, she pulled a blue dress off the rack and thrust it at me. "We'll both look for you. Hopefully it will take less than an hour."

It did. After twenty minutes, I had settled for an ocean blue silk dress with a tulle layered skirt and beaded spaghetti straps. It was fabulous and on sale. Kat had shoes for me in her closet so we walked back, my dress safely in my arms

"You're going to look so pretty onstage tomorrow," she said, looking at he dress in its clear garment bag.

"Maybe," I said. "You'll look better."

She snorted. "I'm already picturing the look on Rob's face when he sees you."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "Drooling."

We both laughed as we walked into our room. I immediately changed into my pajamas and got into bed. It was really too bad that I was dreaming about someone who wasn't my boyfriend. I wanted to dream about Rob. It wasn't fair to him and I got the feeling that the next day wasn't going to be any better.

XxXxXxXxX

So, I meant to post this last night but I got home later than I thought and ended up moving furniture. Go figure. Anyway, read and enjoy and bug me for the next chapter and we'll see how fast I write this time.


	14. XIV

There was a knock outside Kat's and my room on Saturday morning. It was late in the morning but still morning. My hair was sticking straight up in odd places and I was still clad in sweatpants and a tank top, not caring that my bra straps were showing. I had decided to wait until later that afternoon to even begin getting ready for the concert. I assumed it was one of the girls asking to borrow something to wear or mascara or something like that so I flung the door open wide.

Lo and behold, there stood David Dempsey.

"Um Hi," I said intelligently.

"Hey," he said. "Ready for coffee?"

"Um yeah," I said. "Just let me get some shoes and my purse."

"Okay," he replied.

"Who is it?" Kat asked when I grabbed from my flip-flops and purse.

"It's David, my band director," I explained. "We're going for coffee."

"Ah, okay," she replied. "Have fun and be back by five. You're helping me getting really and I'm helping you."

"Okay," I replied. "Bye." I walked outside and shut the door behind me.

David smiled at me. "Ready?"

"Yup," I told him. We walked to his car and I slid into the front seat beside him. "Sorry for my attire but I didn't realized you'd be coming so early."

"Oh sorry, I should've let you know," he apologized. "And you look cute."

We both flushed at that, knowing full well it should never have come out. But it had so we just let it pass as he drove toward the Starbucks I frequented after lessons.

"What do you want?" he asked me.

"Caramel Machiatto," I told him. "But I can pay for my own."

"Can but won't," he informed me, paying for my drink as well as his latte. We sat down at a table.

For a moment, we sat in an awkward silence. It was still very strange to be around him, especially when we were alone.

"So," he asked, looking everywhere but my face. "What are you playing tonight?"

"Mozart's Second Horn Concerto," I informed him. "I love that piece. It's so beautiful."

"Yeah, it is," he agreed. "Do you know what anyone else is playing?"

"Just the snobby girl Angela," I said. "She's playing Sonata in F. Mr. Spear chose it for her because it wasn't long and he wants to get it over with. He hates her."

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said.

He shrugged and gulped down some of his coffee. "What else has gone on?"

I didn't exactly want to tell him about the antics my boyfriend and myself had been up to. Like how he'd been up my shirt three times and we would've gotten farther if not for fear of being caught. "Well," I said. "I've been working a lot on advancing my repertoire of music. I've also been working toward improving my sight reading."

"That's great," he said. "But what have you really been doing this week?"

I smiled. "Truthfully? A lot of screwing around. I've been working on arranging some pieces in my composing class and correcting what I already have. I've been having a blast." A blast with Rob. "What about you? What've you been up to for the last week?"

"I've been finalizing the plans for band camp. Freshman week is right before we leave. I want you to be the horn tech since you are section leader after all. I've had to complete all the music and finalize the drills and everything. It's going to be a great show if everything comes together. It will. I'm sure of it. Did I tell you about the new bass clarinet player? We really needed one."

"I met him already," I informed him.

"Really?" he asked. "When?"

"A couple weeks ago," I said, choosing not to elaborate.

"Ah okay," David replied, looking back down at his latte as if he expected it to do something special.

I gulped down some of my coffee. It was still incredibly hot and nearly burned the back of my throat.

"What time do you need to be back on campus?" he asked.

"Five thirty," I replied, almost wishing I needed to be back sooner. It was incredibly painful to be around him when I knew we could never be anything. Even if I had Rob, I still wanted David more than anything.

"Okay," he said. "Then I have time."

"Time for what?" I asked.

"Time to show you something," he said. "Grab your coffee and let's go."

I did as ordered and climbed into his car. He drove away from campus for about fifteen minutes, at which point he stopped in front of a small, hole-in-the-wall store. I thought that he must have made a mistake but he ushered me out of the vehicle and through the door.

The instant we went inside, I was glad he'd taken me there. It was a music shop; a small, cramped music shop, but a music shop nonetheless. Big shelves held massive stacks of music from wall to wall. Atop the shelves were large locked glass cases brimming with shiny instruments ranging from restored vintages to new models released just a month before. A huge black grand piano was off to the right and two smaller uprights were to the left. Most intriguing however, was the massive glass case filled with French horns visible as soon as I walked through the door. When I scanned the room, I realized that there were more French horns than just what was in this case.

"The guy who runs this store specializes in restoring French Horns," David explained. "This is where I got my current horn. Granted, it was a brand new professional model Yamaha."

I looked at the case and one particular horn caught my eye. It was silver, untarnished and polished to perfection. The bell was etched with an elegant floral design and I could tell the silver was slightly heavier than normal, implying that it had been mixed with other alloys to make it stronger. It was a double descant horn without a single dent or scratch.

"That one took me over a year to restore," a voice behind me said.

I jumped slightly to see a stooped old man with a full head of pure white hair behind me. He had a set of keys in his hand.

"I had to replace the bell and rework a lot of the metal," he informed me. "It was worth it though. A vintage Conn. They don't make them like that anymore. A true beauty. I electroplated the whole thing in sterling silver then lacquered and etched it myself. I would have to say it turned out rather nicely."

"It's beautiful," I said.

"I assume you play considering how much time you spent staring at it," he said. He twisted his key in the lock and opened the case. Before I realized exactly what he was doing, he carefully took it down from the shelf and placed it in my arms. "Try it out. You'll love the sound." He handed me a mouthpiece and I did as told.

It was the most beautiful sound I'd ever achieved from an instrument. The resonance and tone quality were simply amazing. It was the finest instrument I'd ever pressed to my lips. I was almost sad when I stopped playing.

"Wow," I said.

The man and David both nodded. "Wow is right," the man said. "I'm Sam Werner. What's your name missy?"

"Fern Scott," I said, still holding the horn like a precious baby.

"You sound mighty fine," he said. "And I know you must be good if David here brought you in."

I flushed.

"You aren't going to find a horn better fitting for you," he told me. "I would love to send that home with you."

"How much?" I asked, wanting it so badly but knowing I could not afford it. I wasn't even close to being able to afford something so fine.

"Normally ten thousand. For you my dear, five thousand," he told me.

I wanted it so bad, I was nearly crying. "I can't. It would empty my savings and my mom would flip. You have no idea how bad I want it."

He looked at me sympathetically as I handed the instrument back to him. He ran a polishing cloth over it and locked it back up in the glass case. "I'll be saving it for you," he told me. "It's meant to be yours."

"If only," I said.

David took my hand and led me over to a self of music and other French horn necessities. "Take a look and be amazed."

I did and I was amazed. The selves were filled with reams of music, ranging from the popular and contemporary to the rare and obscure. I found a book of duets I had been looking for and on the shelf above it, a leather hand guard, something I needed desperately to keep my horn from tarnishing. I went to pay for them but David stopped me.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm paying," he told me.

"But I'm the one who needs these," I pointed out.

"And?" he replied.

I let him write out the check and hand me the bag. To my surprise, it was actually four o'clock. Where had the time gone?

"I really need to head back soon," I said. "I have to get ready for the concert."

"Okay," he said. We got into the car and we drove back to campus.

"Thank you David," I told him, getting out of the car. "I'll see you later."

"Bye Fern," he replied.

He drove off, through the campus gates. At the time, I had no idea where he was going. However, it was only a short time before I knew.

XxXxXxXxX

"You look great Fern," Kat said as I turned around to look at myself in the mirror several hours later.

"Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself," I informed her. She was wearing a knee length white dress with short sleeves and a floaty skirt. Both of us had done our make up and hair and it was time to go on. Unlike me, however, Kat actually had a lot of hair to play with. She'd wrapped it up in a large bun at the nape of her neck.

"Thanks Fern," she said. "Are you ready?"

I nodded and grabbed my music and instrument. Prior to getting dressed and cleaned up, we'd both taken the time to polish and clean our instruments so that they would gleam onstage.

I was as ready as I would ever be. I would be performing for those in the audience. Was I really fooling myself? I was performing for the two guys in the audience who meant so much to me. If only they could figure it out.

A few minutes later, I was in the warm-up room, preparing to go on. Angela was in the opposite corner preparing a short solo Mr. Spear had selected for her. She hadn't been granted the same choice I had. I could feel her distaste every time she looked at me. Her distaste was extended not only to me but toward her solo as well. I almost pitied her.

Almost.

Boyce came over to me. "You ready?" he asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I answered.

"You've got a long one. I've got a pageand a half. Good luck," he said.

"You too," I answered with a smile.

The woodwinds went first. Kat was the best by far, followed by John and Kristy. Before I realized what was happening, it was time for the horns to perform. Boyce went first, then Angela.

"You're on," said one of the men who'd auditioned me.

"Now?" I squeaked in disbelief.

He nodded. "You'll do great."

I stepped forward, out from the wings of the curtain. The audience was completely packed with other students, their families, and spectators who just came to listen to the music being played. According to Mr. Spear, there were also recruitment officials from different colleges and universities as well as conservatories and boarding high schools. There was a lot of pressure to perform. Afterwards, there would be a meet and greet in the lounge which Mr. Spear told me I was to stay the duration of or suffer his wrath. He needed to talk to me and he imagined several university representatives would want a piece of my time as well.

My heart started beating faster. The audience was huge and all the faces blurred together so I couldn't pick out a single one. A single black chair with a straight back and a music stand stood center stage in the spotlight in front of the curtain. Small stars glittered in the black velvet behind me as I took my seat. I placed my music on the stand and discreetly opened the spit valve to let out some of the saliva.

Bringing my horn to my lips, I took a breath.

Then I began to play.

An eerie calm came over me as I played. I had done it all before. I knew what I needed to do. I began to feel it, the music pouring through my soul. I had never played it quite like that before. It left me breathless so to speak, even though I had more than enough air to pour into my horn. The sound washed over me, and it was beautiful, the way a French horn was meant to sound. At that moment, I realized what I was meant to do. I was meant to play music for my entire life.

It was over within a few minutes but I didn't want it to be. I smiled to myself.

It was then that I heard the deafening roar of the audience. Looking out over the crowd, I saw several people on their feet as well as several people hunched in their chairs scribbling notes on pads of paper. As I took my bow, I smiled and walked off stage. I thought that was all I would have to deal with that night. I was very very wrong.

XxXxXxXxX

I walked into the lobby, not really expecting anything. A pair of arms flung themselves around me from behind.

"It was absolutely beautiful!" Rob's voice murmured from behind. "And you look gorgeous. I'd have to say that I am honored to be your boyfriend."

I smiled at him and he handed me the flowers he'd been hiding behind his back. A dozen red roses. Then he leaned forward and kissed me quite thoroughly, leaving me flushed and tingly all over. I smiled up at him and then looked over his shoulder.

And there stood David.

He had an unreadable expression on his face but it was his hands that caught my attention. In his grasp, there was a single white rose. The edges of the petals were tinged just slightly pink, exactly like the roses I grew in my garden at home. It was the kind with the soft and sweet scent that I loved so much and wished to find a perfume to capture it. It was a single white rose that meant more to me than the dozen red roses already in my hands. They were pretty but the white rose was exquisite. David took a step backward and I noticed something in his other hand. It was small and silver and I knew exactly what it was. While in the store earlier, I had spent a great deal looking at the mouthpieces, finding the one that I needed but couldn't get because of the cost. When he had dropped me off, he had gone back to get it.

I almost felt like crying. Why hadn't I told him about Rob? Why hadn't I told him that I had moved on and had a boyfriend who was devoted to me and played the bass clarinet and loved to kiss me whenever he got the chance? Why was it so hard to even try to tell him? Instead he had found out by seeing Rob kiss me in front of everyone.

He swallowed and then walked toward us, forcing a smile. "It's was amazing Fern. Really. That was magic up there," he said. I knew he meant it.

"Thank you," I said.

He handed me the rose. "For you," he said. He hesitated slightly before handing me the tiny package. "And also for you. I saw you staring at it and I know you needed it."

"Thank you," I told him. "Really." I hugged him but he was stiff, his arms at his sides. When I stepped back, his eyes bore into mine with the silent question burning inside them. I tried to answer him with my eyes but I knew I couldn't explain it that easily.

"Good job again," he told me. "I'll come to see you again on Saturday for the final performance." He nodded toward Rob and left.

"Isn't he our band director?" Rob asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. He's a friend too. He came to hear me play."

Rob nodded and smiled at me, leaning down to kiss my cheek as he tucked his arm neatly around my waist.

Mr. Spear strode over to me, a slight smile on his face. "Excellent," he told me. "Very nice. It was perfect. An awesome selection as well, I might add. Now, say good-bye to your boyfriend and head to the lounge. There are some very important people who want to talk to you." He walked away before I could get a word in.

I looked at Rob and smiled. "I guess that means I better go."

"Yeah," he said. "I'll see you later." He let go of me as I walked off to the lounge.

"Ah Miss Scott," a tall man with a gray goatee said as soon as I walked into the room. "That was an excellent performance. Absolutely beautiful!"

"Thank you," I said.

"I'm Greg Daniels. I represent the Julliard admissions office," he said, handing me a card and reaching for my hand.

I shook his hand and said, "It's nice to meet you."

"I believe Eugene said you were a sophomore," he said, when I confirmed, he continued, "It's not to early to think about things after high school. Julliard may be perfect for you. We're definitely interested in you. Please give me a call or an email any time."

"Thanks, I will," I replied, my head spinning. Julliard?

He wasn't the only one to approach me either. A representative from the Yale music department came, as well as Shenandoah, IUP, Ithaca, and many more than I could remember. My head spun as I walked back to my dorm later than evening with fifteen or so business cards jammed in my purse. So many people wanted to hear more of me. It was an amazing feeling.

"Alex!" Mr. Spear shouted as I was leaving. "One more person needs to talk to you!"

I turned around to see him and a tall man with a gray beard approaching me. When he reached me, he held out his hand for me to shake. "Miss. Scott, my name is Bernard Williams. I'm the director of Admissions here at the Baltimore Academy of Fine Arts."

"It's nice to meet you," I said.

"Miss. Scott, I would like to offer you a spot in our school this fall."

XxXxXxXxX

Cliffie much? Long live 'em. Anyway, read, review, and see how fast I write next time. Much love!


	15. XV

The remaining week of camp passed like seconds on the clock and I found myself waking up early Saturday morning. Kat was still very much asleep so I got out of bed and packed my things. At her first sign of stirring, I ducked out of the room, despite the fact that the dining hall did not open for another twenty minutes. As I walked toward the building, I scuffed the toes of my converses against the sidewalk, looking at the black marks it left on my beat-up shoes.

It was foggy in the early morning in the courtyard. When I came upon the bench outside the hall, my white tee shirt was damp.

"Alex?"

I turned my head toward Mr. Spear.

"What are you doing out so early?" he asked.

"I woke up early. I packed and I don't want to wake my roommate up," I explained.

"You know, you could live with Kat in the fall," he told me. "Her teacher says you two have hit it off."

I sighed. "I gave you my answer yesterday," I reminded him.

"It was the wrong answer," he said.

"It was the only answer. I don't have the money. I don't qualify for need-based aid. I passed the deadline for merit based aid," I informed him. "Besides, I have a perfectly good music program at home."

"It's not the best," he argued. "You'd be better off here."

"That may be," I replied firmly. "But I will not be here in the fall."

He sighed. "You're stubborn."

"So are you," I pointed out. I decided to change the subject. "Did you find anything about a rental horn?"

"Yes," he said. "I found one but did you think to ask the shop owner about a lease agreement? You know, a rent to buy kind of thing?"

"I didn't think about that," I admitted. "When I get the chance to go again, I'll ask."

He nodded. "If you work something out, call me. If not, I'll have your rental horn at your next lesson." He looked at his watch. "You can go get your breakfast now. I imagine you want coffee."

I smiled and nodded. "Thanks Mr. Spear."

"No problem Alex," he said.

I walked into the hall and poured myself a cup of coffee before going up to the line. I took a plateful of scrambled eggs with cheese, veggie sausage, and home fries before sitting down at the usual table. I ate in silence for five minutes before Rob set his tray down next to mine.

"Good morning," he murmured, kissing me in the spot behind my ear that made me shiver.

"Morning," I said. "Can you believe this is our last breakfast here?"

"Not really," he said. "The concert is going to be amazing."

"Yeah, it will be," I agreed, thinking that David would be there. It sent chills up my spine. I had to talk to him, to explain that Rob wasn't a replacement for him, that I was just lonely.

Rob tucked his arm around my waist. "One week home and its off to camp again."

I smiled and nodded. "It's going to be a blast."

XxXxXxXxX

I had showered and combed my hair. It was growing quickly and it was just long enough to part so I wore a cute headband. I'd also put on mascara and a little pink eye shadow. I did need to look nice.

Kat stood in front of the mirror, straightening her hair. Both of our trunks were on the beds, open so we could grab what we needed to get ready.

"You know, Mr. Spear is very upset that you won't be joining us in the fall," Kat told me.

"He has expressed this to me as well," I said. "But it's impossible."

"I know," she said. "Your junior year."

"Yes, definitely my junior year," I said.

"You're better than Mr. Spear said," she told me. "You'll go really far Fern."

"So will you," I told her.

She hesitated briefly, and then smiled. "I'm about to sound like Mr. Spear for a second but you need to hear this. I know you really like Rob but be really careful. He isn't a player, he's a really nice guy but he does move quite a bit. He was only at the Baltimore Academy for a year before he transferred to Seaford. I don't want you to get heartbroken if he leaves suddenly."

I smiled and nodded, knowing she was just looking out for me. "I'll be careful." I turned around and took my tee shirt off, pulling a pink tank top over my head so my bra wouldn't show though my white blouse. Then I buttoned up my blouse before pulling my shorts off. I grabbed my pantyhose and began my little dance-hop routine of getting them on.

Kat laughed at me. "Pantyhose are the worst, aren't they?"

"You've got that right," I said, grunting as I pulled the waistband up, snuggly over my rear. I took my calf-length black velvet skirt off the hanger and pulled it on. I took up my black dress shoes and put them on as well, just as Kat began changing. "I'll meet you in the band room for warm-ups. There's someone I need to see."

Mr. Spear had his French horn (which I was to use) and my music was in my instrument locker. Going to the lockers, I got my instrument out so I wouldn't have to go searching later. I took it to me to the concert hall where I immediately spotted Mr. Harvey.

"Fern!" he exclaimed, enveloping me in a big hug. "How have you been?"

"I've been great," I told him. "It's so amazing here."

"Of course it is!" he told me. "David told me your solo performance was fantastic! I wish I could have been there."

"They recorded it," I informed him. "You can order a CD from that night and tonight's concert."

"I'll have to do that," he said.

When I looked over his shoulder, I saw David hanging back. I opened my arms to hug him. He hesitated before hugging me stiffly. I frowned a little. "Mr. Harvey, why don't you go order the CD before the line gets longer?" I suggested, gesturing at the growing line at the CD table.

"Sounds like a good idea," he said, walking over.

"We need to talk," I said to David.

"About what?" he asked flatly.

"About my boyfriend," I said frankly. "Come on. Mr. Harvey will be waiting for at least fifteen minutes and I don't have to be to the warm up room for another twenty." I went to take him by the hand but thought better of it and led him to the garden just outside the concert hall. I sat down on a garden bench and gestured for him to do the same.

He stared at his hands and then looked up. "You don't waste time, do you?"

"David…" I began. "You refused me. What am I supposed to do? Remain celibate for the rest of my life?"

"You don't mean you've…" he started.

"No, of course not!" I said. "I mean that I had no boyfriend and I met him and I like him so I date him. But I don't… I don't…" My voice trailed off and I looked down.

"You don't what Fern?" he asked.

"I don't love him," I said softly. I looked up trying to meet his eyes. "He's nothing compared to you."

"Then why are you with him?" he asked softly.

"I'm lonely David. I can't have you and I've got to get over it eventually. He's what I need now," I told him. "I'm just a human."

He sighed. "I hate him already."

I smiled. "You shouldn't. He's a nice guy."

He looked away. "Just… give me some time Fern. I have to get used to this." With those words, he got up from the bench and walked back into the concert hall. I stared at my hands for a minute before I followed, going toward the warm-up room.

"You look great," Rob told me, planting a kiss in my hair.

"Thanks," I said with a smile.

Mr. Spear came over and silently handed me his French horn, which he had obviously polished up for me. I took it a walked over to the French horn section to warm-up.

Angela looked at me interestedly as I played through my scales. "You are good," she admitted begrudgingly.

"So are you," I told her. "Your technique is amazing."

She shrugged and began warming up herself. However begrudgingly, I knew I had earned her respect.

XxXxXxXxX

The concert was over, my stuff was in the car, and I had carefully taken now the name, phone number, email, and screenname of anyone I cared to actually keep in contact with. Mom couldn't make it to the concert but had ordered a CD so I was riding with Mr. Harvey and David.

"Ready?" Mr. Harvey asked.

I nodded and got into the back of the car. As we drove out of Baltimore, it started to rain. It was getting late and it was starting to get dark. I leaned my head against the cool glass and looked out into the blackness. Without a doubt, I would miss being at Baltimore Academy greatly. Knowing how close I was to being a full-time student was heartbreaking because I knew I would have to wait for a year.

We cruised over the bay bridge and I watched the headlights of the cars coming from the other direction flash as they passed. There was something very cool about bridges at night.

"You okay Fern?" Mr. Harvey asked me.

"Yeah, fine," I replied. "I'm just tired."

"Okay," he said. "I have to tell you Fern, you get better every time I hear you."

"You're just saying that," I argued.

"No I'm not Fern," he said. "You need a new horn. You were playing on Eugene's weren't you?"

"Yeah, I was," I told him. "Mr. Spear found a rental for me."

"It can't be anything like what we found last week," David said, suddenly entering the conversation.

"You found an instrument you want?" Mr. Harvey asked.

"Yeah," I told him. "Last Saturday we went to a music shop. I found the perfect instrument… for ten thousand dollars."

"Oh," he said. "Guess you're getting a job then."

"Yeah, I'm going to have to," I said. "I really want that horn and there is not a chance Mom will buy it."

"I'll pay half," Mr. Harvey offered.

"You don't have to do that," I told him. "Five thousand dollars is a lot of money."

"That I know," he replied. "And I know I don't have to Fern. I want to."

I smiled slightly and leaned my head back against the seat. "By the way David, you were right. They did offer me a place in the school in the fall."

"You didn't take it, did you?" he asked, an edge of panic coming into his voice.

"I couldn't," I said. "No financial aid. I don't qualify for need-based aid and all the merit-based scholarships have been awarded."

"That's a real shame Fern," Mr. Harvey said. "I really would have wanted to see you go there. You need to be in a school designed for talent like yours."

"Don't encourage her!" David exclaimed. "You're trying to lure the best horn player in the state away from my band!"

I laughed. "You can't hold onto me forever," I pointed out. It wasn't until later that I realized the significance of what I said to our relationship. He couldn't hold onto me when I was not his lover; he had refused me and given up his claim.

I closed my eyes when I received no reply and the next thing I knew, David was shaking me awake. "Wake up Fern, you're home," he said.

I blinked groggily and shook my head. I sat forward and realized the car was parked in my driveway. Mr. Harvey was outside, carrying my things into the house. I got out of the car.

"You're right," David replied quietly, not looking at me. "I'll see you in two weeks, ready to go to band camp."

"Right," I replied. "Good bye David."

XxXxXxXxX

Okay, yeah, short chapter but I didn't want to drag it out too long and become redundant. Anyway, you're allowed to shoot me for taking so long but I do have an explanation. This is the fourth time I have rewritten this chapter because of crashing computers. Also, forgive any errors because I tend to miss stuff when I check it. If you point them out, I'll go back and fix later.

News from the author: I have been made drum major in training! Squee! I'm going to be a drum major my junior and senior years!

I'll try not to take so long next time…


	16. XVI

Life was, in a word, complicated. For the first few days I was home, I really didn't see anyone. My brain needed to calm down, to relax without the many distractions all my loved ones offered.

I locked myself in the house alone for several days. Only Rob talked to me regularly and I made sure to keep the phone conversations down to an hour. My time was spent fully absorbed in music. I practiced for two hours twice a day. All of the things I had learned at the Academy were blossoming and filling out the holes in my technique. While I grew as a musician, I drew away from the people around me.

My mom went on a spur of the moment camping trip with friends. In truth, it was a group cooperation seminar but she was going with all her doctor friends. I felt a little abandoned. Most mothers would not trust their teenage daughters alone for a weekend, much less a week but mom left $500 and a cell phone number and went off. I tried not to let it get to me and consoled myself by saying it was a good thing she trusted me so much. It didn't really work.

Serena was obviously worried about me. She was the only one I had told about David and she was the only one I had told about Rob. While she had liked Rob at first, she told me he gave her an uneasy feeling. I ignored her. What did she really know? In terms of experience with guys, we were equals.

David I avoided completely. He needed time and I needed time. Having him around would only confuse me more and I had two long weeks of being forced into his presence constantly. I needed to be able to use my brain and around him I couldn't.

Love was a complicated thing. I really couldn't figure it out. Did I _love_ David? Or rather more importantly at the time, did I _love_ Rob? Thinking about it made my head hurt so I chose not to.

Wednesday dawned and I had a French horn lesson in Baltimore. With a groan, I turned off my alarm clock at 8 and got out of bed. I had been up late practicing the night before and I was tired.

A glance in the bathroom mirror told me the scar on my head was faded and finally covered by my hair that was nearly two inches long, albeit very messed up and greasy. I hopped in the shower.

Fifteen minutes later I was downstairs, dressed in a long denim skirt and black tank top, sipping on a glass of orange juice. The phone rang and I dove to answer it, forgetting temporarily that mom was not home.

"Hey Fern."

"Hi Mr. Harvey."

"Can I pick you up in a few minutes? I want to see this horn you love so much."

"Yeah… that's fine."

"Okay. See you in a few."

The ride to Baltimore was filled with idle debate over the new Yamaha triple horn. It was a $30,000 horn as it was plated in gold. I thought that for the right person, albeit not most horn players, it would be well worth the cost if they wanted a really warm sound. Mr. Harvd a really warm sound. Mr. Harvey to make it in gold but wished that they made it in solid sterling.

"Not everyone wants a dark tone," I pointed out.

"Most do," he replied.

"Hmmm… I actually like a fairly warm tone," I answered.

"Says she who has one of the darkest horns on the market," he said.

"I never said I was crazy about Bertha," I reminded him.

"Bertha?" he asked.

"I never told you that I named my horn?" I questioned.

He just shook his head at me.

We parked out front of the tiny shop where I had found the horn. When I opened the door, there it was in the huge glass case, shining like a beacon of hope and light for me. It looked like it had been given a new coat of lacquer, as it shined even brighter than before.

"You're back," a voice said.

I turned to see the shop owner, smiling at me.

"Yeah," I said.

"I assume that you want to play it a little more?" he asked.

I nodded and he unlocked the case, gently handing me the horn. There was a chair nearby, which I sat in to play.

Mr. Harvey's face took on a strange look of awe with the very first note I played. It continued on as I breezed through a few scales and some songs I had memorized after playing them for so long.

"How much?" he asked the shopkeeper as soon as I was done playing.

"I'll drop the price for her. I had told her I might do $5000 but I can't quite do that. I'll give it to you for $7500," he replied.

Mr. Harvey shook his head. "I can't fork over that much today. Can I make a deposit on it though?"

"Sure," the shopkeeper said.

"Mr. Harvey, what are you doing?" I asked him.

"Putting money into your future," he replied, writing a check for three thousand dollars.

"You can't do this! I should have to buy something for myself for once," I told him.

He shrugged. "You can pay me back if you want. I never said I was paying for all of it anyway." He turned to the shopkeeper. "Can we borrow it for a few hours? She has a lesson with Eugene Spear and I imagine he's curious to hear what kind of sound she can get."

"Sure. Just bring it back when you're done. I'll get the case," he replied.

My knees went week as the case was placed into my hands.

"We're going to be late if you don't pick your jaw up off the floor," Mr. Harvey teased me.

I grinned. "Can't have that, now can we? Mr. Spear hates tardiness."

"Yes he sure does," Mr. Harvey said.

We got in the car and drove to the school. As we walked through the cavernous marble halls, I cradled the case protectively to my chest, as if a tiny bump would shatter its perfection.

Mr. Spear opened the door for me. "I brought the re—is that a new horn?"

I nodded. "It's not mine yet. I have to give it back to the shop at the end of the day. I brought it to show you."

"Let's see it then," he said.

I carefully set the case on the table and opened it slowly, lifting the horn from the black velvet confines of the case. He held out his arms to take it from me and a reluctantly handed it over.

His gaze was almost reverent as he looked it over from the beautiful etchings on the bell to the gold rotors to the heavy, lacquered silver construction. He nodded as he examined. "Perfect. They don't make them quite like this anymore. I imagine the tone is quite flexible, a mix of dark and warm."

I nodded.

He handed it back to me. "Play," he said. "Show me you deserve this instrument."

Truth was, I really did not deserve it. It was the Holy Grail of French horns and it was in the hands of an almost-sixteen year old, amateur player. Mr. Spear knew it too.

I played much better on that horn than my old one but it was not even close to how I could be playing it.

"Alex, I'm kind of glad you can't have it right away," he said as I played through a few Mozart horn concertos. "You aren't ready for this instrument."

"I know," I replied.

He sighed. "Put it away. We're going to make you ready for it so when it's yours, you can play it the way it's meant to be played. Now put it away. You need to try out this rental horn."

I did as he told me and took out the rental horn he'd acquired. It was a lovely horn, a refurbished Conn 8D from 1972. Granted, it was absolutely nothing compared to what I had just played. It was like comparing a fairly nice cotton-poly sweater with cashmere. It really was no comparison.

As I played he shook his head a bit. "You need to focus. Your technique is solid but not perfect. Your expression and tone are pretty but not beautiful. What it boils down to is that you need to practice more and you need more instruction."

"I practice four hours every day," I told him. "Two in the morning and two in the afternoon."

"What are you practicing?" he asked.

"Everything you assign me, plus all of my scales and arpeggios and sight-reading on grade five pieces," I answered.

"Are you playing the trumpet?" he asked. "That would mess things up greatly."

I shook my head. "I stopped after our first lesson."

He sighed. "Then I'm not sure what it is. We'll figure it out, I imagine. You will only be able to come to one lesson for the next two weeks?"

I nodded.

He huffed. "Damned marching band will mess up your playing even further. I would tell you to give it up but I know you won't."

"You're right. Plus, I can't take concert band without taking marching band," I told him.

"I hate how schools do that nowadays," he said. "For now, keep doing what you're doing. And if there are any distractions—like that boy of yours—I want them gone. Music is far more important."

I really thought the comment about 'my boy' was out of line but I didn't say anything. When both horns were packed up, I headed for the door.

"Remember Alex, be a French horn player, not someone who plays the French horn," he said.

We stopped by the shop on the way home to drop off the horn.

"He's right you know," Mr. Harvey said as we left the city.

"Right about what?" I asked.

"You do need more instruction and you do need to focus more," he answered as we came to a stop at a traffic light. He looked over at me. "I really think you should go to Baltimore Academy."

"And the money will come from where?" I questioned. "Mom isn't going to pay. We've been through this before."

"She won't pay something that could affect your future?" he asked.

"Mom doesn't get it. She's… just not there. I don't know how to describe it," I said.

The light turned green and he nudged the gas. "I suppose I don't."

"She'll pay for college, wherever I decide to go but I'm closer with my great aunt Gertrude who lives in New Mexico than I am with my mom," I explained. "Mom loves me but she doesn't understand me."

He nodded slowly. "I know and it makes me sad for you."

"Don't be sad," I told him. "I'm doing okay."

XxXxXxXxX

I continued practicing with vigor but sometimes it was an uphill battle. I knew I was good and it sounded beautiful to most ears but it sounded unemotional, flat (although pitch wise, it was perfect), and distracted. Rob was away on a family vacation so I was left to my own devices.

On Friday morning, Serena picked me up. Thursday night she had called me.

"We're going shopping," she said firmly.

"We are?" I asked.

"Yes, we are. I'll pick you up at eleven. You will practice before you leave. You will bring your check book and you will spend money," she said.

"But I'm saving for a new French horn," I protested.

"That doesn't mean you can't spend any money at all," she said. "I'll take you job hunting afterward."

I huffed. "Fine."

I was ready when she came, wearing a nice white skirt and a black tee shirt, my purse in hand. I'd even put on make-up for once.

Serena beeped the horn once and I flew out the door.

"You look pretty good with short hair," she appraised.

"I miss my long hair," I told her.

She shrugged, turning the stereo up. "Whatever you like, my dear."

We got to the mall and hopped out of the car. Serena looked every bit the part of hip teenage going shopping while I looked like sullen sister forced to follow her around. I was distracted still.

I followed Serena into Hot Topic and browsed through their tee shirts. All of them seemed to remind me of music and love and boys. I stepped away and looked at the body jewelry case.

"Dear Lord, no," Serena teased. "No, you can't get a nose ring." She held a black lace corset up to me. "You'd look adorable."

"An adorable dominatrix," I agreed.

She scoffed. "You obviously don't know style. Whatever. I'm buying it for you."

Serena and I shopped for about an hour before stopping at Starbucks. We sat down at a little café table with our bags and two venti caramel machiattos.

"Any big plans before band camp?" Serena asked.

I shrugged. "Rob and I are going out to the beach tomorrow but that's it."

"Do you really need to see each other that often?" she asked.

"We haven't seen each other since Saturday," I pointed out.

"After seeing each other every day for two weeks when you will see each other every day for another two weeks," she reminded me. "I think he's a little obsessive."

"You didn't say that before. And you and Dennis go out a lot," I replied.

"I barely knew Rob before and Dennis and I go out once, maybe twice a week. Rob takes you out almost every day," she said.

"We like spending time together," I said. "Is their something wrong with that?"

"Of course not," she assured me. "But the rest of the world would like to see you as well."

"I haven't really seen anyone this week," I said. "I stayed home Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday and only left on Wednesday for my lesson."

"What do you find to do at home for that length of time?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Practice."

She shook her head. "You realize that you're insane, right?"

"Music freak, what can I say?"

"You're hiding," she analyzed.

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"No."

"Yes."

"I'm not playing this game. Fern, I have known you all your life. I know when you're on top of the world and when the world's on top of you. I also know that even when your Dad died, you didn't avoid people this much. You're hiding from something. Tell me what it is," she told me.

She was right and I slumped a little bit, fiddling with a coffee stirrer. "I'm just… confused."

"About what?" she inquired.

"Everything," I said. I proceeded to explain. "I can't figure out if I love Rob or not, I still have that annoying little teacher crush, my practicing isn't going well, and everyone wants me to go to the Baltimore Academy."

"Do you want to go?" Serena asked.

"It's one of the best performing arts high schools in the country. Of course I want to go," I answered. "But I can't. Mom is not going to pay for it. Besides, there are… other things involved to."

"Like what?"

"Like my boyfriend, my involvement in the marching band, Mr. Harvey, mom…" my voice trailed off.

"You don't see fit to mention your best friend in there?" she teased.

I cracked a small smile. "You don't count. I'm venting to you."

"Ah, my dear," she said. "Welcome to the drama of the teenage years. Enjoy it."

"Was that supposed to be encouraging?"

"No," she answered.

"Come on my dear," Serena said, standing. "Obviously your problems cannot be solved over coffee. For now, lets solve one problem and find you a job."

With a smile, I got up and joined her, ready to solve one of my many problems.

XxXxXxXxX

Any violence that you so choose to exhibit on my person is totally justified. Just remember that if you kill me, you won't get anymore story.


	17. XVII

"Would you like fries with that?" Rob joked.

We were in my bedroom as I modeled the height of fashion: my new Arby's uniform. The shapeless polo shirt and visor really did nothing for my plain Jane looks. I growled something incoherent to my boyfriend. I really couldn't grouse that much, considering he was driving me to my first day of work. After our trip to the mall, Serena had taken me to several places to pick up job applications. To my delight—and my chagrin—Arby's had requested an interview the very next day. After the interview, I was called the next day and welcomed to the staff. Rob promised to take me to work every day in order to have the precious moments of the car ride alone with me. He had an uncanny sense of when the light was about to turn green as we kissed at red lights.

It was all for a purpose though. I had to have that French horn. I'd work until it killed me. I pondered all of this as he took me to my very first day on the job.

"Earth to Fern," Rob said.

I turned to look at him.

"Red light?" he said.

I smiled and ducked her head toward him. He proceeded to leave me entirely breathless. When I arrived at work, I was blushing furiously, my lip gloss smeared and my clothes rumpled.

"Hello and welcome to Arby's," the assistant manager Holton, greeted me. "Today you're going to learn the basics of preparing the food." He walked me over to the deep fryer and proceeded to explain how to work it in very uncertain terms. After explaining how to use about fifty different machines used to prepare fast food, I was escorted to the deep fryer and told to make French fries.

I poured a bag of frozen curly fries into the basket like Holton had shown me, dipped it into the boiling grease, and set the timer. While the fries were frying, I had nothing to do but think. At $6.30 an hour, I was to work forty hours a week, thus making $252 a week, less taxes. If I kept working the same hours each week, I'd have enough to buy the horn in about 20 weeks. Unfortunately, I had to take two weeks off for band camp and after that I only had four more weeks left to summer. Then I'd have to cut back my hours. I groaned inwardly, thinking of how long it would take to come up with the necessary funds. As I sighed, I smelled something burning. I turned my head and saw the charred French fries bubbling in the hot grease, smelling awful. With a yelp, I grabbed the handle of the basket and yanked it upward, managing to spatter the bubbling oil onto my skin. It burned and blistered.

"You okay?" Holton asked. He looked at the charred fries in the basket and patted my shoulder. "Don't worry. I did that many times before I mastered the fryer. Why don't you try the drive through while we're not very busy?"

I was handed a headset and told to take people's orders. I quickly grew frustrated and confused with the computer used to take orders. I couldn't seem to push the correct buttons at the right time. Needless to say, I was not in the best mood when Rob picked me up.

"Hey honey," he said, leaning over to kiss me. "How did it go?"

I allowed him to kiss my on the cheek before pushing him away. "Awful. I smell like brunt French fries and I don't think fifty showers will get the smell of the roast beef out of my hair."

He reached over to kiss me but I shove his hands away. "No way. Not until I've had a shower and stop smelling like the deep fryer."

He turned away and shifted the car into reverse. "I really don't mind," he said, backing out of the parking space.

"I do," I pointed out.

He sighed and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "Fine. I guess I'll have to wait until tomorrow to kiss you," he said.

I could tell he was annoyed but I didn't care quite enough. I wanted a shower desperately. Eau de Pomme Frites was not my favorite perfume. There was no way I was letting him touch me when I reeked of grease. One would have thought I'd mortally wounded him by not letting him kiss me. If he was that demanding, what would it be like when we started having sex?

My heart nearly stopped at that thought. Had I really thought about sex? I was a virgin and Rob was my first serious boyfriend. Would he expect me to sleep with him? I sent a quite glance his way. All relationships were supposed to hit that level at one point, I reasoned. If things kept going the way they were, there was reason to believe I would have sex with Rob. I wasn't sure why it made me feel so funny to think about it. There were kids my age that had been having sex regularly with more than one partner. It was just a given, it seemed, in any relationship. The idea just squicked me for some reason.

When we arrived at my house, I have Rob a quick peck on the cheek and went inside. Mom was at work so the house was cold and empty. I set my purse down on the table by the door and went upstairs to take a quick shower. The hot water streaming from the showerhead soothed my sore muscles while my lavender shampoo washed away the scent of grease and some of my inner turmoil. When I stepped out of the shower, I put on my white robe and went into my bedroom. The clock by my bed read seven seventeen. I wasn't hungry, I was tired—but not sleepy, but I was frustrated. Even though it was still early, I changed into my pajamas and took out my horn to practice.

Practicing was my response to everything. If all else failed, I still had music to keep me going. Even if my playing was not what I wanted it to be, it was still there; like an old worn sweater just perfect on cold days. I felt stronger when I played, like no one could get to me when I had a French horn to my lips. If only I could play all day, every day. My big silver French horn was my shield against the world.

The next day, Rob was determined to make up for lost time. He kissed me quite thoroughly in my driveway and his hands definitely left ten and two at the red lights. Again, I came to work with my shirt rumpled and my face flushed. Holton sent me straight to the bathroom to clean myself up since I was to learn how to work the register that day.

I looked at myself in the mirror of the bathroom after I had straightened my shirt and bra. I saw my red cheeks and my smeared lip gloss clearly in the slightly dirty mirror. I had a silly grin slapped across my face but it faded as I looked into my eyes. They were dark and still held tangible loneliness.

I was happy. Really, I was. Wasn't I? Rob made me smile and laugh and made my skin tingle when he touched me. I had a job, I had a French horn, I had friends, and I had lessons with one of the greatest teachers on the east coast. I had everything I wanted; I had to be happy.

I turned away from the face in the mirror and walked out of the bathroom. I'd wasted enough time contemplating my appearance.

"There you are!" Holton said. "Bad news. We need you on the deep fryer until Pam gets here. She's stuck in traffic on Middleford Road. Apparently, there was some horrible accident and not a soul can get past." He must have seen my horrified look at the thought of deep frying because he said, "Don't worry. You'll be absolutely fine. You were getting the hang of it by the end of the day yesterday."

"You mean I didn't burn the fries completely, just burnt the edges a little," I reminded him.

He shrugged. "They were good enough for my standards."

I shook my head before walking to the freezer to retrieve a bag of curly fries. I shook them into the fryer basket, set the timer, and dipped the basket into the hot oil. I leaned against the side rack of roast beef sandwiches. From there, I could see the two guys at the roast beef sandwich assembly station, adding even more sandwiches to the rack before the lunch rush. If I turned my head slightly, I was looking out the window to the drive through. Jenny stood with her headset on, watching the monitor and looking bored. I turned to watch the guys making the sandwiches: bun, beef, sauce, bun. Wrap it in foil and slide it into the "regular roast beef" slot in the rack.

The timer on the fryer buzzed and I grabbed the handle of the basket, being careful not to let the hot oil splash onto my arm. By some miracle or twist of fate, the curly fries were perfectly done: crisp and done but not overcooked. I grabbed a fry and ate it before using the scoop to put the fries in their little containers.

"Make sure you do some of the side kickers too!" Holton told me, observing my fries. Apparently, I was moving up in the fast food world if I was allowed to fry the other sides. I went back to the freezer to get a bag of the mozzarella sticks from the freezer. As I returned to my post, the sandwich guys had switched to beef and cheddar sandwiches. My stomach churned at the smell of the beef and over processed cheese. I hated meat and the cheese they used was disgusting.

The cheese sticks took less time to fry so I dumped them in their tray just as Pam came up behind me. We'd been introduced briefly the day prior.

"Hey kid," she said, observing my deep fried goods. "Not bad. Where are the burnt ones?"

"None today," I told her proudly.

She laughed heartily at this. "Not bad. Holton will be pleased. You can go tell him I'm here so you can do whatever it is you're supposed to do today."

"Okay, thanks," I said, turning to look for Holton. He was lecturing the person hired just before me on how to properly clean out the ketchup dispensers.

"Pam is here," I announced when he was done his lecture on sanitizing equipment properly. "So I can learn whatever it is I need right now."

"Good," he said decisively. "You'll be learning to work the register today."

He led me over to the counter with its line of registers. They had never appeared quite as intimidating when I was on the other side of them. There appeared to be a thousand buttons on the panel, each labeled with a different thing in tiny writing. It wasn't nearly as easy to decipher what the buttons meant as it had been on the computer screen at the drive through.

Holton gave me a run through of what each button did.

"Any questions?" he asked.

Before I could ask him to explain it again, he ran off as one of the other girls was about to drop a tray of chicken club sandwiches. While he sprinted off to keep her from dumping all the sandwiches on the floor, my first customer came up to me.

"What can I get you today?" I asked.

"I'll have… a number six with large fries and drink. And a small jamocha milkshake," the woman said. She was tall and thin and looked like she was in a hurry with her keys jangling in her left hand. I had to turn my head to look at the wall menu to see what a number six combo was. I found the button and pressed it, then hit three more buttons to get everything ordered.

"You're total is seven eighty eight," I told her.

"Charge," she said, handing me her Visa check card. I looked from the piece of plastic to her and back to the card. Holton had not shown me what to do with credit cards.

"Holton!" I said over my shoulder. "How do you run a charge?"

"Can't you see I'm busy?" he snapped, lecturing ketchup girl on properly putting straws in the dispenser.

"But Holton! You didn't show me this earlier," I whined, hoping he was sensitive to whiny girls, even if I hated whining.

He huffed loudly, and came over, snatching the card from my hand. He grumbled something about incompetent teenagers. The woman I was waiting on tapped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest. Holton swiped the card and pressed a few buttons. A few seconds later, a receipt printed out, which he handed to the woman for her to sign. As she did so, one of the guys in the back (Max, maybe?) handed me her order. Holton ripped apart the carbon copies and handed the receipt to her.

"Have a nice day," he told her through gritted teeth.

"You need to pay attention when I show you something," he snarled.

"But you didn't show me," I pointed out.

"You have customers," he told me, gesturing to the ever lengthening line.

With a gulp, I turned to the elderly couple standing in front of the register. They were arguing over sides.

"I don't like the jalapeño popper thingies," the old man said. "Let's get the onion petals."

"I don't want the damn onions!" the woman screeched. "They give me gas."

I flushed.

"Well, then we'll get the mozzarella sticks," he said decisively. Having ended the argument, he turned to me.

"Hello. What can I get for you today?" I asked, pushing the cheese sticks button.

"We'll have two roast beef sandwiches, two small drinks, and a large order of cheese sticks," the man said.

"Twelve even," I told him, after taking forever to press the appropriate buttons. He handed me over the cash which I placed into the drawer, then handed him the receipt. "You can pick up your order at the left end of the counter." I forced a smile.

"Thank you, dearie," the old woman said.

The line was building and I scrambled to keep up. I was slow and I kept messing up orders in my rush to get things done. Holton kept shooting me dirty looks that rivaled those of the angry customers. The lunch shift finally started to taper off when he came in.

David.

And he was holding the hand of a tall, thin, blonde, and obnoxiously pretty woman.

I looked down, praying that he wouldn't see me and they would go to another register. I had no luck.

I looked up and smiled at his shocked face. "Hi. What can I get you today?" I questioned.

"Fern?" he said in disbelief.

"Oh, you know her?" the blonde said.

"Yeah, she's one of my students, Susan." He turned to me. "What are you doing here?"

"Working," I said docilely. "What can I get for you today?"

"Umm… what do you want, sweetie?" she asked him, smiling at him. Obviously, she was oblivious to the tension. She still held his hand in hers. I could see her perfectly manicured nails.

"Number… two?" he said, his voice questioning. He looked at me with a bewildered expression on his face.

"Large or medium?" I questioned.

"Large?"

"Curly or homestyle fries?"

"Curly?" he replied, his voice again questioning.

I punched the proper buttons, harder than actually necessary, and looked at the blonde.

"Um… I'll have a chicken salad with ranch dressing and a small drink," she said.

Again, I punched the buttons. "It'll be Eleven eighty seven," I told them.

David handed me a twenty dollar bill. I made change and slammed the drawer shut as I handed him the receipt. "You can pick up your order at the left side of the counter." I slapped a huge, fake grin on my face.

As they walked to the other side of the counter, I could hear the blonde—Susan, apparently—say, "That was odd. Are all teenagers that moody these days?"

I shook my head. There was no one else in line so I could take my lunch break. I grabbed a pack of mozzarella sticks, some curly fries, and a shake and headed out the back door. Pam was at the picnic table, a chicken sandwich in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"You look like shit," she said. She gestured to the pack of Virginia Slims resting by her elbow. "Want one?"

I shook my head and sat down. "I don't smoke."

"Goody goody," she said. She held her lit cigarette between her lips, shook another out of the pack, lit it, and handed it to me. "Try it. Be bad for once."

I looked at the cigarette dubiously.

"Go on," she said. "One puff is not going to kill you."

I held the cigarette up to my lips and inhaled. I nearly coughed up a lung as the smoke went in.

She shrugged. "The first drag is always like that. Try again."

If I was going to be bad for once, I figured I should go the whole way. I inhaled again. My lungs burned and tears sprung to my eyes but I suppressed the cough.

She nodded approvingly. I held the cigarette in one hand and managed to open the box of cheese sticks with the other. I bit into a cheese stick and flicked the ash off the end of the cigarette at the same time. When I finished chewing, I took a drag. It didn't burn quite as much.

"So, what's got you down?" she asked. "That boy of yours?"

"No, not quite," I told her. There really was no way to explain without telling the whole truth. It was easier to lie. "Ex-boyfriend came in."

She nodded knowingly. "Let me know if you need another cigarette."

I nodded, taking a drag. Just then, I heard brakes screech. I turned my head to see a furious David storming out of his car, right for me.

"Put that cigarette down right now!" he said.

"Why?" I asked, standing up. I flicked the ash, just to piss him off. I really wasn't in the mood to deal with him as the smoking police.

"You know better than this," he said. "Stop it."

I took a drag. "You don't own me. Go back to Susan."

He snatched the cigarette from my hand before I could jerk it away. He dropped it and ground it under the heel of his shoe. "You moved on too," he hissed. "Go play with your little boytoy. It's fine. But don't ruin your lungs by smoking."

"David," Susan said. "I appreciate your vigilance against youth tobacco use but we're going to miss the movie. I don't know why you insisted on the matinee."

"Go," I told him, taking a step back. "I don't care. Just stay the hell out of my life! What—or who—I do is none of your business."

I blanched mentally while he blanched physically. He studied my face briefly and shook his head. "I guess you're not as smart as I thought you were."

He stalked back to his car and sped out of the parking lot. I walked back on the table and sat down.

"Watchdog ass," Pam said. She held the pack of cigarettes out to me. I took one, in a way seeking revenge against David for moving on and caring about me. I held it between my lips, lit the tip, and took a drag. I could feel my lungs protesting.

My "revenge" was certainly not sweet.

XxXxXxXxX

For the record, I have never worked at a fast food restaurant, nor have I ever smoked. I am truly sorry if I have screwed up either experience.


	18. XVIII

The time left until band camp flew past quicker than I believed possible. The night before we were to leave, I scrambled about my bedroom, throwing things into my suitcase. As I was counting pairs of socks (three pairs for each day of the first week. There was nothing quite like smelly, sweaty feet. I'd do laundry on Saturday), I heard the phone ring.

"Hello?" I answered, tilting my head to keep the phone lodged between my head and shoulder. There was no time to let my hands be idle.

"Hey Fern," Mr. Harvey greeted me.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked. While it wasn't unheard of, it was uncommon for him to call without a specific reason for calling.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," he said, his voice laced with concern. Something was up.

"I'm fine," I assured him. "Why the sudden interest?"

"Well, David said he saw you at work the other day," he began.

My heart started pounding. Had the bastard told on me? I was going to kill him, really I was.

"And he told me you didn't look so good. He wanted me to check in on you since you didn't exactly welcome his advice," he continued. "I thought you liked the guy, Fern. He made it sound like you were downright mean."

"He caught me at a very bad time," I said. Understatement of the year. There was still no mention of cigarettes though.

"He also said you were hanging out with a not so savory young woman," he went on.

"Who? Pam?" I asked. "It's not like I can really help it; we do work together. She happened to be out already when I took my lunch."

"Ah, I see now. I guess he's worried about you getting in with the wrong people," he said. "He's a very nice guy."

Indeed he was. When he wasn't busy being a complete and utter asshole. "Yes, he is," I said.

"He and I also talked about your lesson. Eugene had called me, concerned about you missing not one but two lessons so I'm going to drive and pick you up for your Wednesday lesson as well," he said. "David really can't be spared two days during the week."

"Sounds great," I told him, glad I'd get another blessed morning away from David. I was a filthy hypocrite and I knew it. It was only then that I knew how David felt when he saw Rob and me together for the first time.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked. I heard the concern laced with every word.

"I'm absolutely fine," I replied firmly.

"Okay," he said, somewhat doubtfully. "I'll see you on Wednesday. Have fun at band camp, sweetie."

"I will," I told him, doubting it. "See you."

With a sigh, I hung up the phone and kept packing. After I finished counting out pairs of socks, I started adding underwear and bras. It was best to get the bare necessities taken care of first, in my opinion. I was a no nonsense girl when it came to band, if little else. There was no need for sexy or pretty clothes. The things I brought were strictly athletic shorts, tee shirts, and tank tops. It was sure to be blazing hot for most of the week so I needed to dress appropriately. The only sort of nice clothes I brought were to be worn to my French horn lesson: dark blue jeans, a khaki skirt, olive green capris, a twinset, and two blouses. I could mix it up for the lessons. Mr. Spear would not care if he saw the same outfit twice but I could imagine Mr. Hoity-toity's reaction if I were to show up in soccer shorts, a sports bra, and a tank top to my lesson.

I really hated packing. In fact, I loathed it with a passion. I knew I was bound to forget at least one thing. With my kind of luck, it would be a vitally important something, such as my French horn or my shoes or my toothbrush.

Thinking of the latter two items, I threw an extra pair of sneakers and an extra toothbrush in, just in case. I preferred to pack too much than realize I forgot something.

When I had finally settled that I had everything I could possibly need and more stuffed away into my very large suitcase, I took a few minutes to relax. Sometimes I just needed time without thinking. I sat back in the arm chair in the den, tilting my chin up and closing my eyes.

I was a hypocrite and I knew it. In my mind, I could move on but he couldn't. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, and it wasn't logical. However, the heart is very fickle. I could not convince it that I was not being logical. What was more, it seemed my issues of the heart were affecting my music. If it wasn't that, why was my playing suddenly lackluster?

My reverie was broken as I heard the telephone ring in shrill blasts. I launched myself out of the chair and picked it up.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hey honey. Why haven't you been answering your cell? I called three times," said Rob.

"It's upstairs in the charger. The battery died. What's up?"

"Just wanted to say hi," he said. "The buses leave at six tomorrow and we're supposed to be there at five thirty so I'll pick you up at five fifteen."

"Sounds good," I agreed.

"You sound strange. Are you feeling okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I assured him. "I need to finish packing. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah. Bye Honey," he said.

I hung up the phone and went upstairs. While I had been on the phone, I remembered a few things I had originally forgotten. It would not have been a good idea to forget soap or a towel. I don't think even Rob would touch me after a day of marching and no shower. Instead, I would smell like the roses and lavender of my shower gel and shampoo.

After I shoved those items into my bag, I zipped it up and took it downstairs to wait for me by the door. Being half asleep, it was possible for me to forget it if I left it upstairs. I changed into my pajamas and crawled into bed. It was still early—only ten or so—but I had to be up early.

Sleep escaped me for a long time. I lay in bed, staring at my ceiling, my eyes trying to find constellations in the glow in the dark stars I'd put on the ceiling when I was in grade school. I was sleepy but sleep would not take me over. Instead I was left with my thoughts and stars.

An hour later, I finally drifted off to sleep. My dreams were plagued with images of Rob and David. In one of them, Rob and I were sitting in the den, watching a movie. He reached over and placed a hand on my shoulder. I turned to look at him.

"I need you. Never leave me. He isn't worth you," he said.

He didn't let me respond. Instead, he kissed me fiercely until I saw stars and fireworks. I barely noticed as he pulled my shirt off and went to pull my jeans off. When I felt his hands on my bare waist, I gently pushed him on the chest to tell him to slow down.

I saw David's face as he pulled away. "Whore," he said.

Then I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring. With a groan, I shut it off. Five o'clock was too early. My muscles protested as I dragged myself out of bed and into my closet. I pulled on jeans, a tee shirt, and flip flops before heading to the bathroom. As I ruffled my smashed hair, I was still half asleep and remained so until after I had stashed my suitcase and instruments in the trunk of Rob's car and been thoroughly kissed by my boyfriend.

"How are you sweetie?" he asked.

"I'm okay," I said with a sleepy smile. "How about you?"

"I'm just great now," he said with a big grin. Slowly, he backed out of the driveway. "Are you excited?"

I really wasn't; I was nervous about the whole thing. Rather than admit my fear, I nodded. "Yeah. I can hardly wait."

He smiled. "Neither can I. Two weeks with my girlfriend? It's going to be perfect."

I smiled over at him. While I was happy to be spending more time with him, I dreaded spending any time with David. What would he say? What would he do? I was glad he hadn't told Mr. Harvey about the cigarettes but it wouldn't surprise me if he'd always be suspicious. It was a one time thing—did he really think I was going to trash my lungs with that nasty stuff? That shirt still smelled funny.

Rob reached over and grabbed my hand, lacing my fingers with his. It was a comfort to feel the warmth of his body. As small as it was, it was a reassurance that he was there, a semi-stable rock to lean against. As unsure as I was of my feelings for him, I knew he adored me enough for the both of us.

We pulled into the parking lot three minutes early. Sleepy looking teenagers and their parents milled around the parking lot next to three motor coach busses. I saw Serena leaning against the brick wall of the school, her eyes half closed. She appeared to be sleeping. David was no where to be found but I saw the middle school band director, Mrs. Lenore, checking people off a list. She also happened to be our assistant director.

I got out of the car and started pulling things out of the trunk to take to the bus. It had been impossible to pack light: I had a huge suitcase, two instruments, and a backpack of things for the bus ride. Mrs. Lenore walked over to the car and asked Rob his name before looking at me.

"How long do you think we'll be there? A year?" she asked.

"Two weeks," I said. "I have four French horn lessons in that time and Mr. Spear will murder me if I don't put in at least ninety minutes a day," I said.

"Mr. Spear," she said. "As in Eugene Spear?"

I nodded.

"Wow, Fern," she said. "He's awesome."

"And picky," I said. "If I don't practice enough, he will yell. And he yells enough as it is."

She nodded grimly. "Not sure where we're going to put all of that though." She shrugged. "We'll have to figure it out." She walked off to the car that was pulling into the lot and Rob and I walked over to the buses to put our stuff away.

"You can't take all that, Fern," a voice said behind me. "One instrument per person."

I turned to see David scowling at me. "I have to practice on my horn and I have four French horn lessons in the next two weeks. Do you want to feel the wrath of Mr. Spear?"

His scowl deepened. "Then how do you suggest we fit all of your stuff as well as everyone else's? The world doesn't revolve around you."

"I know it doesn't," I replied through gritted teeth. "But I have to take both instruments. What would you have me do?"

"You're going to have to sit with one of them in your lap," he informed me.

"For the six hour drive?" I said in disbelief.

He shrugged. "Deal with it. This is not my problem; it's yours."

As he walked away, I huffed and shoved my suitcase and mellophone into the storage compartment, keeping my bag and French horn.

"Come on," Rob said. "Let's go stake out our seats."

I nodded and followed him onto the bus. We took the two seats in the back, to the left of the bathroom. They were semi secluded—we could slump down enough so that no one could see us making out unless they were going into the bathroom or seated in the seat across the aisle and in front of us. I was hoping to convince Serena to sit there and play alarm. Even if it wasn't Serena, no one but a chaperone would actually care.

Carefully, I wedged my French horn partly under my seat and the seat in front of me. It was not ideal but I figured I would spend most of the ride on Rob's lap. We then shoved both of our carry on bags under his seat and got off the bus to talk to everyone else.

"Hey Fern," Serena said sleepily. "How's it going?"

"Good," I told her. "How's Dennis?"

She smiled. "Great. He nearly cried when I told him I'd be gone for two weeks. I seriously think he's going to steal a car and come visit me."

"Aw, that's cute. Poor guy," I said.

"I understand how he feels," Rob said, settling an arm around my shoulders. "I know I couldn't stand to be away from you for two weeks."

I smiled up at him. "You're sweet."

"Annoyingly so," Serena said. "You have him trained, Fern."

"Nah, he came like this," I said.

"You're lucky," she said.

We were interrupted by the flag instructor, Jillian. "Circle up. We roll out in five minutes."

The three of us joined the growing circle of fellow musicians. They were circling three deep in a wide arc around David. Rob's arm dropped from my shoulders to hold my hand. I leaned against his shoulder and waited for David to say what he had to say.

"Good morning," he greeted everyone. "Thank you for being here so early. As many of you know, I am David Dempsey, the new band director here at Blades High. I have come to the position after a very well-liked band director. I am not here to change everything, nor am I here to carry on exactly what Mr. Harvey did. Good or bad, change is coming from all of us, starting today. We are about to embark on the best—but most difficult band camp you have ever seen. As all of the freshman and new marchers who attended rookie week will tell you, I am not easy but you will learn a lot. All of that said, please go to the bathroom, get on your buses, and get ready to go! Oh! And try to get some sleep on the ride up to Cabot. You'll need it."

All of us dispersed to our prospective busses. Rob and I got onto our bus and walked to our seats as Serena was cornered by some friends. He was chivalrous and allowed me to have the window seat so I could look outside, even though I couldn't, as my feet were positioned in his lap. The arm rest was shoved uncomfortably into my back but I didn't care. My pillow and such was wedged into my suitcase and therefore unusable.

"Come 'ere," Rob said, leaning toward me.

I smiled as I bent forward to receive his kiss. As early as it was, his breath was minty fresh, as if he had just brushed his teeth a moment prior. He ran his tongue over my lower lip and I opened my mouth for him. As early as it was, it was a good morning, indeed.

"I'll have none of that going on," a rude voice interrupted.

We broke apart to see David hovering over us. "I don't care what you two do in the privacy of your own homes but you will not do it on this bus."

We nodded, knowing full well that we'd resume as soon as he was out of range.

He obviously had a different idea though. Instead of returning to the front of the bus, he took the one and only seat you could see us from.

Bastard.

Rob gave me an apologetic look and leaned his head back against the seat. I let out a nearly inaudible growl and shifted so I could see out the window, tucking me feet up underneath me. Rob placed an arm around my shoulder so I leaned my head against him. As David turned his head to check on us, I shot him a dirty look, earning one in return. Rather than dwelling on it, I decided to close my eyes and try to sleep some more. Again, I dreamt strange dreams.

I stood in a big rectangular field. It was twice as long and three times as wide as a football field with grandstands on either side. I was alone, dressing in nothing but shorts and a sports bra with no shoes on my feet. In my hands was my French horn.

"You promised me a good show!" Rob shouted from the bleachers.

"What about me? You promised me one too!" David called from the other side.

Suddenly, Mr. Spear appeared in front of me. "You're ruining yourself, Alexandria. Can't you see that?"

I jerked awake as we hit a bump in the road.

"You okay, sweetie?" Rob asked. "You were making funny noises while you slept and it looked like you were upset about something."

I smiled and shook my head. "It's fine. I just had a strange dream, that's all."

"Okay," he said with a slight smile.

"Can you hand me my bag?" I asked.

He pulled it out from under his seat. After I pulled out a book and my CD player, he stuffed it back underneath and pulled my feet into his lap. While I put on my headphones, he gently removed my flip flops and began massaging my feet. It felt like heaven.

David looked over at us again, his expression neutral. I ignored him and turned up my music.

The rest of the ride to Cabot was boring and uneventful. It was ever so annoying to have David watching our every move. When we stopped for lunch, Rob and I stole a few minutes to make out but it was not nearly enough.

I had a feeling things would always remain awkward between David and I. Even if we managed to get around the fact that we were seeing other people, I for one would always have that secret longing—that "what if?"

The bus pulled up a long drive to a grassy campus. David stood up. "Okay! Everyone up! Leave everything on the bus! It is time for inspection and orientation!"

With a slight sinking feeling, I got up from my seat, walked off the bus, and prepared for what was to come.

XxXxXxXxX


	19. XIX

I half stumbled off the bus and into the bright sunlight. My muscles were cramped and stiff from staying in one position so long. Rob placed a hand on my back to steady me and I gave him a brief smile.

"Line it up!" David shouted as we all poured from the buses.

We all stumbled forward and started to form what vaguely resembled a line. Rob and I stood together of course. His hand rested on the small of my back, rubbing soft circles into my skin through my shirt.

"You call this a line?" David demanded. "Straighten it up!"

He stalked down the ranks, observing the band students as the last of the chaperones wobbled from the bus. As he walked, I watched him pull a whistle and lanyard out of his pocket. He slipped the cord around his neck. As he marched in front of Rob and I, he stopped suddenly.

"Oh no. Time to break this up," he said. Roughly, he seized my upper arm and dragged me out of line.

"Ow, that hurts," I told him, stumbling after him down the line.

His grip didn't loosen as his lips settled in a grim line. With a scowl on his face, he stopped between two clarinet players, let go of my arm, and shoved me roughly into line. "Stay there," he commanded, as if he was sure I'd run off at any second.

The whole band fell silent as we formed one huge long line.

"Band to the ready!" he shouted.

I planted my feet and put my head down, my arms in front of my body.

"Band! Atten-HUT!" he shouted.

I snapped to attention, standing tall and straight, shoulders back, arms snapped to my sides, feet together. My eyes were trained in front of me, staring off into the distance.

I could hear David walking back and forth down the line. He stopped in front of the girl to my left and then put his hands on his hips, standing directly in my line of vision. I tried my absolute hardest to stare through him. He moved side to side and I knew he was trying to break my concentration.

"Look at me, Fern," David said softly. It wasn't a harsh voice, like I had become accustomed to in the last few days. Instead, it was soft, quiet, and gentle, just like it had been before everything fell apart.

Involuntarily, my eyes snapped to his.

He shook his head. "You're too easy, Fern. I've seen freshman do better. You're eyes don't move at attention. Drop and give me ten push-ups."

I moved to drop down to the ground and he stared down at me the entire time I did my push-ups. He didn't walk away until I had settled back in line at attention.

He picked on a few more people and then called us to a formal at ease.

"You are to leave your things on the bus. Don't worry about them. Staff will place them in your dorm rooms. You will proceed immediately to the field that way." He pointed to his right. "Got it?" He looked at all of us. "Fall out!"

We all started walking over to the field, hunch backed and mumbling. I trudged toward the grassy stretch.

"Hustle up!" David shouted. "Stop dawdling! I want to see you moving! Get running!"

With a groan, I shifted from my slow walk to a fast jog. I had no intention of sprinting to the field. I could imagine the cramps in my muscles if ran. David ran up beside me.

"You're slow Fern! This isn't a time for you to be lazy! Step it up!"

I sped my gait up slightly to try and appease him.

"I said step it up! Stop dillydallying and get it together!" he said.

I broke into a dead run toward the field, if only to get away from him. Every fiber of my being wanted to be away from him. How could he treat me like this? My lungs burned as I sprinted to the field. I passed all the people in front of me. It felt like I was flying, even though I knew I was far from the world's fastest runner.

The air burned in my lungs. It felt like I was inhaling fire. The stitch in my side grew with every step but I didn't care. I had to get away. Before I even knew where I was going, I found myself rushing through the gates and onto the field. I slowed and came to a stop. As I turned to see where the rest of the band was, I realized they were far behind me. It would give me a chance to catch my breath.

I hunched over and rested my hands on my knees as I wheezed. Never had I run so hard in my life. The desire to fly has been all consuming. I was paying the price though; my lungs were burning and my legs were already cramping. As the rest of the band reached the field, I was still wheezing and coughing.

"Are you alright?" Rob asked, placing a hand on the small of my back. "You were flying."

"I'm—fine," I wheezed.

"You don't sound it," he said, a small frown on his face.

I shook my head.

David walked over to us and sneered at me. "I said pick up the pace, not run like a maniac. Twenty-five more for you."

"Can't you see she can't breathe?" Rob demanded.

"It's her own fault. You aren't her guard dog," he said nastily. He looked at me. "Get on with it. For every second you waste, I'm adding five more. Thirty. Thirty-five. Forty. Forty-five. Fifty."

By the time he hit fifty, I was on the ground, doing my push-ups with shaking arms.

"No girl push-ups," he said, even though I hadn't been doing them. David loomed over me and counted each time I raised and lowered myself toward the ground.

With the last push-up, I let my arms collapse and lay on the ground panting for a moment. My lungs still felt like they were on fire.

"You're weak, Fern. Get up," he said.

I struggled to me feet. Rob grabbed my arm to steady me. David shook his head at us and snorted. With a sneer, he walked away, moving to the front of the band.

"Okay everyone! It is time for our marching review. Form a block, ten to a row on the lines. Seniors and section leaders to the right. Go!" he shouted.

We all scrambled to form the lines. Rob ended up as the last person on my row while I stood to the far right. My freshman French horns clustered beside me, hoping I would impart some kind of wisdom to them. I knew they knew more than they thought they did.

"Fall in at to the ready!" he said.

I went to position and waited for the next command.

"Band! Atten-HUT!" he shouted as we all settled into rank.

Again, I snapped to attention. This time he didn't walk among the ranks, trying to distract people. He continued to call commands.

"Band left face! Band right face! Band about face! Half right face! Half left face! Band left face! Band left face! Band right face!"

In quick succession, I executed all the face maneuvers. It was child's play. I could have done all of them in my sleep. Part of my wanted to yawn but I didn't dare break the attention position, lest I was ordered to do more push-ups.

"Band! Stand at ease!" he said.

Our heads all snapped to look at him. "Not as bad as I thought," he said. "Still needs a lot of work though. We're going to review for the next two hours so get comfy. We need to get all the basics right before we can do the fancy stuff I know you want to do."

Inwardly I groaned. A review for two hours? I was already bored.

"Band! Atten-hut!"

Obediently, my head snapped forward. The long string of basic commands was boring. I executed them flawlessly, if dispassionately. The commands seemed to blend together as I tuned David out nearly completely, doing each move automatically without really registering his voice.

"At ease," he called an hour and a half later. "Okay, now comes the test to see what you know. We're going to have a little march off. Don't worry. They early rounds are all things you know. When we get to the last few though, then things will get fun."

I knew the second he called the march off that I would win. I could march the pants off of anyone else in the band since I had been doing it longer.

"Game starts when I call you to the ready," he said. He surveyed all of our eager faces before calling us to position.

"Band left face!" he cried as we stood with our heads down.

"As you were!" I shouted as half the freshmen tried to execute the command. I would have laughed if it hadn't been breaking form.

"Band Atten-HUT!" he said.

I snapped into position.

"Band parade HUT!"

I crossed my arms over my chest and widened my stance.

"Band right face!"

I didn't move. Half of the remaining people did. I almost smirked. We were slightly less than a quarter of the size we started with.

"Band Atten-HUT!"

I snapped into position again.

"Band right face!"

I turned right.

"Band left face!"

I turned left.

He continued to call facing maneuvers for several minutes, all in rapid succession.

"Band right face!"

"Band left face!"

"Band right face!"

"Band left face!"

"Band parade HUT!"

While I fell into position, all but ten were fooled. This was really all too easy.

"Tighten up your ranks!" he said, as we were scattered across the field.

I refused to budge. This trick had been pulled before and I wouldn't fall again. Two others did, including Rob.

"Congratulations for making it this far. Better luck next time," David said. He looked at those of us still standing. "Now things get a little tricky. Take a look around. You all are the big dogs here."

Poor Serena made the mistake of looking around. I cringed inside for her.

"Thank you very much. Take a seat, young lady," David told her. He looked back at us. "Dress right dress!" he shouted.

"As you were!" I shouted. Two others did not. They were ushered off the field. Five remained. I was to the far right of everyone else with Dakota, Scott, and two clarinet players to my left.

"Band Atten-HUT!" he shouted.

All of us snapped to attention, each determined to win. I knew I would though. It wasn't arrogance; it was a fact of life.

"Dress center dress!"

I brought both hands up to chest level and extended my left arm level with my shoulder. I scooted toward the center. Dakota, however, was very confused as to where the center was. After switching arms twice, she just stepped out of line, leaving the rest of us to sort ourselves out. Once we were sufficiently aligned, we were called back to position and the competition continued.

We were all fiercely competitive. One of the clarinet players was glaring at me as I executed all the commands that were called. In fact, she was so busy glaring that she missed the command to mark time. There were three of us left as we moved into marching commands.

"Forward march" David called.

We started going.

"Left turn march!"

The remaining clarinet did a flank rather than a turn and was pulled from the ranks. It was just me and Scott. David called a series of commands in rapid succession, both of us doing them flawlessly.

Then he called the oblique.

As I snapped to do my right oblique, Scott faltered, not remembering what an oblique meant.

"Band halt!" David said to me.

I stopped.

"Congratulations to Miss Fern Scott, our first march off winner," he said. David sounded furious and after I was called out, all I could do was smirk. As I smiled his way, he glared at me, like he wished me to disappear right then.

Rob came up to me and hugged me, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist before letting go. Serena congratulated me.

"I can't believe you beat me!" Dakota groaned.

"You'll beat me next time," I assured her. And I was fairly sure I was right. I couldn't march perfectly all the time.

David blew his whistle right in my ear. My ear drum throbbed as the shrill blast rang in my ears.

"Attention everyone! You will proceed to the dining room for lunch where you will find your dorm assignments posted on the windows around the building. Following lunch, you will proceed to your rooms to unpack your things. You are all split between four dorms on campus, as there are other camps running here now as well. Girls and boys are not in the same dorms," he announced. "You can see the dining hall from here." He pointed to a large brick building. "Fall out!"

Rob took my hand and we started walking toward the indicated building.

"You were so awesome," Rob told me. "Really. You were so intense."

"Thanks," I said with a smile.

I heard a disgusted sound behind us. Without even a glance, I knew it was David. Who else would react that way to a simple exchange between Rob and me? David tailed us the entire way to the dining hall as if to make sure we didn't decide to get too affectionate. All we were doing was holding hands.

Upon arriving at the hall, I decided the crowd around the lists was too large so we went right in and got our lunches. I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with an apple and a diet coke. Upon completing the meal, I looked at the lists and the campus map. I was placed in Fenton Hall in a room with Dakota. Rob had been placed all the way across campus in Norman Hall, rooming with Scott. Life was not fair and neither was my band director.

I stormed back over to the table to wait to be dismissed.

"What's got you in a huff?" Rob asked as he finished his chocolate pudding.

"We're across campus," I told him.

"What?" he said. "You're kidding!"

"I'm afraid not. There is not a chance in hell that we'll be able to sneak out from that far away," I said.

He groaned. "Damn it."

"You don't have to tell me twice," I said.

"What? Fern, you were actually going to risk getting in trouble?" Serena asked in utter disbelief.

"Well, yeah," I said.

Her eyes were as big as saucers as she looked from Rob to me and back.

I heard a whistle blast and turned to look at David. "Okay everyone!" he said. "You are to report to your rooms immediately. Do not open your bags. First I must conduct a mandatory bag search to be sure no one has smuggled illicit items in here. Anyone caught removing something from their bag will be asked to leave. Failure to comply will result in immediate expulsion from the band. Now go! I will start in the boys dorms in five minutes."

I was furious. A bag search? What was he hoping to find? I knew he was dying to find a pack of cigarettes in my bag. That had been a one time idiocy and I never intended to smoke anything ever again, so long as I lived. What was more, I had the impression that he intended to search all of the bags himself, not even giving the girls the courtesy of a female chaperon.

Ignoring Rob, I stalked to my dorm. As I entered the building, Mrs. James, one of the chaperones, handed me a room key.

"Thank you," I muttered as I blew past the table and down the hall. Dakota and I were on the fourth floor, all the way at the end of the hall. It was a standard issue dorm: two twin beds, two desks, two chairs, two sets of drawers, and two closets. The bathroom was across the hall so I knew we'd constantly hear people going in and out and talking loudly. Of course. At least it was convenient.

It occurred to me as I was leaning up against my bed, staring at my bags as they sat on the floor in the middle of the room, that if David was searching the boys' dorms first, I'd be there for a while. I had nothing to do; everything I had resided in my bags.

"Good Lord this sucks," Dakota said with a huff as she sat down on her bed. "Why the bag search? It's such an invasion of privacy."

"Seriously. He's crazy," I agreed.

"You know, it would be nice to be able to unpack and make my bed and grill you about Rob while you can't escape but no, I get to sit and wait for him to go through my bag and handle all my bras," she said. "It's so against my constitutional rights."

"Well, you can still grill me about Rob," I pointed out. "I don't think you need anything in that bag to do that."

"You're right!" she said with a mischievous smile. "Glad you brought it up. Now spill."

I shrugged. "He's my boyfriend. I like him."

"Details, girl! Is he a good kisser? Does he love you? Do you love him? What kind of stuff do you guys do together? Have you done it yet?"

I could feel all my blood rush to my face. "Um, yeah he's a good kisser. I don't know if I loved him. I'm a little young, I think. We just have fun. We go on dates as much as humanly possible and he's the one who takes me to work every day."

"But have you done it yet?" she asked.

"No," I mumbled.

"How far have you gone?" she questioned.

"Um…" My face flushed even redder.

"You've been down on each other?" she guessed.

"No!" I exclaimed.

"Then what?" she inquired.

"Um… both our shirts were off and my bra was on the floor…" I said, staring at the ugly beige tile floor.

"Oh," she said.

"I need to… use the bathroom," I said, making up any excuse to leave the room at that moment. After fleeing to the bathroom, I used the toilet and washed my hands. Trying to get the red to go away, I splashed my face repeatedly with cold water.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Fern," Dakota said, as I walked back into the room. "You really like the guy and it's not like you're doing it with any guy you meet on the street."

I shrugged. We continued talking for two hours until at long last I heard a knock on the open door. When I looked over at the door frame, there was David, clipboard in hand and a stony expression on his face.

"All right Dakota, let me see your bags," he said, looking pointedly at her.

"Right on the bed," she said, pointing at her lime green duffel bag sitting next to her trumpet case.

He set his clipboard down on the mattress and unzipped the bag. After rifling through it for a few minutes, he nodded.

"You're fine. Now go," he ordered.

"But I wanted to unpack," Dakota protested.

"I said go," he told her.

Dakota scampered from the room as David turned to my bag. I clenched my fists, furious that he would do this—all of this—just because of me. Why? Why couldn't we go back to how things had been? I watched as he placed his hand on the bag, about to unzip it. Rather than pulling the zipper, he turned and looked at me.

"Just tell me what's in there," he said in a weary, sad voice. His face had softened. "Just tell me so I can pretend I found it. Then just hand it over."

"There's nothing in there," I told him. "Just clothes and toiletries and everything else you told us to bring."

He snorted. "Tell me what's in there Fern. You can't possibly think I believe you."

"Go ahead and look," I said. "Forget about my constitutional rights, forget about being friends, forget about everything and go through my bag like every other student."

He glared at me, his face once again becoming hard, and turned back to my things. I watched as he rifled through my things, his hand reaching into every possible hiding place in my bag. He checked by bag, my purse, my back pack, and both my instrument cases. It was in my purse that he found them: the birth control pills I had been on since I was thirteen.

"Oh my God," he said. "It's true. I thought no way could it possibly be true but it is!"

"What is?" I asked, extremely confused. Nearly every high school girl was on the pill; finding the green case shouldn't have been such a shocker.

"You and that boy of yours are having sex!" he half shouted at me.

"They can hear you in the hall," I pointed out through gritted teeth. "And though it's none of your business, we aren't!"

"Like hell it isn't my business!" he yelled at me, going to shut the door so our shouting match would be slightly less public.

"No, it's not! What I do and who I do it with is none of your business!" I shouted right back, infuriated.

"Why the hell are you on the pill if you aren't having sex, then?" he screamed at me.

"You really want to know this?" I demanded. "You're really that nosy that you have to know everything about me and my body and my menstrual cycle? I get debilitating cramps without the pill! I'm not having sex!"

"Then why did I find a massive box of condoms in your boyfriend's bag?" he asked.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.

Then he threw the box down on the bed. It was a box of condoms. Trojans, to be exact. As I looked at the label, my knees felt weak.

"Oh. My. God," I said faintly. "What the hell was he thinking?" I backed up into Dakota's bed.

"Fern, are you okay?" David questioned, his brow furrowing.

"Uh huh," I replied, still trying to recover from the shock.

"You really didn't know he was bringing them?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Oh," he said. "Then you're not…"

"I told you already; we aren't having sex." I turned to look him in the eye. "Did you really have to search everyone's bags just to make sure that Rob and I aren't doing anything stupid?"

"I've got to protect you, Fern," he said. "You wander too easily."

"You moved on too," I pointed out.

He was silent and I turned to face the windows so I could avoid his gaze. I was still in shock from everything that had transpired in the last few minutes, hours, days, and weeks. Things would never be normal again.

I heard the door swing open behind me.

"Okay, Fern," I heard him say. "You're free to go."

"Thank you, Mr. Dempsey," I replied, turning to meet his gaze. He nodded.

So that's how things would be.


	20. XX

Hell hath no fury like a teenage girl whose boyfriend thought he was getting some. The violence with which I threw all of my clothes into the drawers of my dresser was quite impressive. It was especially impressive that I still managed to keep everything neat as I threw it into place. I made my bed so neatly and drew the sheets so tightly, it would pass the quarter bounce test.

"Um, are you okay, Fern?" Dakota asked, after she came back in the room.

"Just dandy," I said through gritted teeth. He was _so_ dead. Dead as a doornail. No, deader than a doornail. He was deader than a dinosaur.

"Really," Dakota said. "So… the tee shirt had it coming?"

I looked down and realized I had twisted one of my tee shirts into a rope and was in the process of tying it in a pretzel. I quickly loosened my grasp. The fabric unwound itself but remained hopelessly wrinkled.

"Just frustrated," I said.

"I feel you. I can't believe he actually searched everybody's bags. I wonder if he found anything," she said.

"Oh, he did," I said.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"He told me," I replied, trying to smooth the wrinkled purple tee shirt.

"And?" she asked, hands planted on her hips. "Who had what?"

"Rob," I said.

"Rob?" she repeated. "Your Rob? What did he have?"

"Condoms," I said, "A very large box of condoms."

"Oh," Dakota said, turning back to her dresser.

"That's your only reaction?" I asked.

"Fern, you do like the guy. Earlier you said you've made it to second base. You know you're probably going to do it at some point," she said.

"Dakota, I'm fifteen. Don't you think I'm a little young?" I pointed out.

"People mature at different rates. I mean, if you're ready, you're ready," she said.

"Thing is, I'm not," I said. "Rob and I have been dating for a month. I kind of figured I'd know a guy a lot longer than that before I went all the way. Rob's my first boyfriend."

"From what I see, Rob is a good guy," Dakota said. "He's nice to you and he likes you. I'm not telling you one way or another what you need to do but this is how I see it. Rob is a year older than you. I don't know how experienced he is. He might not wait around forever though."

"Thing is, I don't know if I want to be with a guy who won't wait for me," I told her.

"That's your choice," she said. "I'm just telling you the truth. This is how relationships work sometimes."

"Unfortunately," I muttered.

There was a knock on the door and I swung it open to see Crystal, the assistant drum major. "Mr. Dempsey says be on the main field in half an hour, ready to march. No instruments."

"Okay Crystal," I said. "I'll be ready."

I turned back to my bags. My bed was made, my clothes were all either in the dresser or were hung up in the closet. What was left? My bag was still half full. Why had I brought so much other stuff?

I took my laptop out of its bag and set it on the desk, plugged into the wall so the batteries could charge. Then I put my cell phone on its charger. There were two voicemails from my mom and three from Mr. Harvey. There were also six text messages from Rob that I left unanswered. I was not ready to deal with him. I wasn't going to confront him during practice either. He'd have to deal with my fury after dinner.

I took clean socks out of my drawer and traded my current footwear for my good, comfy sneakers. Though I had won the march off in flip flops, they were really no good for marching. As an afterthought, I decided to change my clothes as well. They were sweaty and nasty from the earlier practice and I could stand a change.

I stomped out to the field once I was changed. David—Mr. Dempsey—was standing by the podium, talking to Jeff, our new drum major. He'd been an assistance drum major but as our senior major had left, he was in charge. Jeff had always been fairly nice to me. Right now, however, both he and Dav—Mr. Dempsey—were frowning at me. I couldn't figure out why I was under their scrutiny. I was attired properly: soccer shorts, a white tee shirt, and sneakers. Though they could not see it, I'd also put on a sports bra. There had been nothing on my face or in my teeth when I left the room.

"Miss. Scott," Mr. Dempsey said, waving me over.

I approached warily. "Yes, sir?"

"Mr. James here has decided that you are to aid in today's drill practice," he said through gritted teeth. He hated that Jeff knew that I was good. He handed me a stack of drill sheets. "Please help Mr. James position each of the members according to the opening drill design once everyone has reached the field."

"Yes sir," I said.

He nodded curtly and stomped away to go yell at a pack of freshman girls who had shown up in ridiculous clothing: three had on spaghetti strap tops with no bras, and two had on mini skirts with sandals.

"You make enemies fast," Jeff said, as I pored over the drill sheets.

I shrugged. "He hates that I'm good."

He nodded. "He practically begged me to pick someone other than you to help me."

"It figures he would," I said.

"Hey baby," a voice said.

I turned to see Rob standing behind me.

"Hi," I replied, quickly turning around.

"Did you get my messages?" he asked.

"My phone is messed up," I said. "You need to get with the group."

"Are you doing something special?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "Now get back with the group."

"No hug?" he asked, getting that puppy dog look.

"Mr. Dempsey is right there," I said, nodding toward him as he stood by a gaggle of sophomores who should have known better than to wear flip flops to the field when they had time to change. It was disgusting how little the people knew.

"It's just a hug, Fern. What can he say about a hug?" he asked.

I wrapped my arms around him briefly and squeezed him tight then let him go. He gave me a strange look as he walked over to where the clarinet section was standing. He had no idea what was going on. Good. Then he'd be surprised when I gave him a piece of my mind.

How dare he think that after a month of dating, I'd be ready to sleep with him? How dare he be presumptuous enough to bring a box of twenty-four condoms? Did he really think if I was going to give my virginity to him, I'd do it at band camp? Band camp! Where did he think we'd do it? Under the bleachers on the field? The practice room? Oh I know! He thought we'd do it on one of the microbe infested mattresses in one of our dorms. He had another think coming.

"You landed the new guy?" Jeff said.

"Rob?" I said.

"Yeah," he replied.

"We've been dating for a month now," I told him.

"Really," he said. He thought for a minute. "Trouble in paradise?"

"You have no idea," I said.

Jeff shrugged. "Okay, you'll position the brass on the field. Crystal will take the woodwinds, and I will take the percussion and auxilary. Mr. Dempsey says he doesn't want to hand out drill sheets until tomorrow but he wants us to lay out the opening position now." He rolled his eyes. "He has his reasons. I don't understand them."

I smiled wanly and looked at my watch. Two minutes to show time. Crystal jogged over to us, drill sheets in hand.

"I chased all of the girls out of the dorms," she said. "You picked Fern?" she said to Jeff.

He nodded. "She's better than most of the seniors," he pointed out.

"That's the truth," Crystal said. "Ready?"

Jeff nodded. "Cover your ears," instructed me.

Crystal and Jeff raised their whistles to their lips. Jeff counted off with his fingers and on the third count, blew their whistles loudly and shrilly. Luckily I had jammed my fingers in my ears and the sound was softened. The band did likewise as the whistle blew.

"Okay!" Jeff shouted once the band fell silent. "We're going to put you in position for the opener. To do this, we will place you in the opening formation and work backward. I will place the percussion and auxiliary on the field. Assistant Drum Major Crystal will place the woodwinds on the field and French horn section leader and last years MVP will place the brass on the field. I want the percussion and auxiliary to line up on the fifty yard line. Woodwinds, you will line up on the forty to my left—your right—and brass will line up on my right."

They just stood there, staring at them.

"Well? What are you waiting for? A handwritten invitation? Move out!" he said.

The band grumbled as they did so and Crystal blew her whistle. "Did he tell you to talk? No? I didn't think so."

They moved silently onto the lines as they were told. There were about fifty people on each line. Good. We were fairly even that year. I looked over at Crystal and Jeff. They were already directing their groups into position. When I looked at the drill sheet, I saw that we were organized into squads of four with two squads of five. Quickly, I put all the brass players into their squads and then positioned the squads on the field, leaving spaces for those that weren't there. I doubled checked everyone's positions and then checked to see the progress of the groups. I was the first one done. Oh yes. I was good. David—Mr. Dempsey—was frowning at me. I wanted to smirk. I refrained, however. Provoking him wasn't a good idea.

"You should be standing at attention," I reminded my brass players. They'd been standing in position for a good five minutes. I looked over at the percussion/auxiliary and the woodwinds. Crystal was about halfway through getting the woodwinds on the field and Jeff had all the auxiliary in place but none of the percussionists.

"Do you all remember the parade rest command?" I called out.

Silence.

"I expect a 'yes m'am' or a 'no m'am,'" I said. "I repeat: do you all remember the parade rest command?"

I heard about half "yes m'am" and half "no m'am," so I decided to teach them the command. No wonder I had beaten them all so soundly at the march off. "When I call for parade rest, you will cross your arms across your chest. Your hands will forms fists and your fists will be up against your biceps. You will also widen your stance so your feet are shoulder width apart by sliding your left foot out and leaving your right in place."

I stood in front of the group and demonstrated the command. "Now with me!" I said. "Band! Parade hut!" I called.

"HUT!" they shouted, all falling into the position perfectly. I nodded. "Good."

Mr. Dempsey's frown grew deeper as he realized that not only was everyone in position, but I had taught them a new command well. He surveyed the section, standing at parade rest. Then he approached me.

"I didn't ask you to teach them a new command," he said severely. "But you did well."

"Thank you," I said stiffly. One victory won, a million battles left to fight.

As we worked on moving back and forth into the opening formation for another hour, my mind was a mixture of satisfaction at a job well done and apprehension for the coming confrontation with Rob. He had to know my mind on this. I also needed to practice for my lesson with Mr. Spear. He'd behead me if I didn't practice.

We were finally dismissed to shower and change for dinner. I walked back to the dorm with Serena and Dakota. After a few threats to a few freshlings who thought they could get in the shower line ahead of me, I grabbed a freezing cold shower (the hot water had run out by the second wave of girls) and changed into my third outfit of the day. At least I felt and smelled much better.

Rob gave me strange looks the entire time we were eating dinner. I barely said a word to him or anyone around us. Instead, I picked listlessly at my food and waited. According the schedule I had been handed as I walked into the dining hall for dinner, we had free time after dinner. We were allowed in our dorms, the park, the dining hall, or the student lounge. Which place was the best for a confrontation about sexual expectations in a teenage relationship? Hmmm…

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Rob asked, after he took our trays up to the washing station. I suspected the park was as good a place as any for what needed to be said.

"Sure," I said, taking his hand. It was a small comfort, at least, to feel his larger hand holding mine so securely. It was almost a beautiful thing. We walked silently along the sidewalk in the park, watching as some of the boys got together for a soccer game.

"So," I said, once we were out of earshot. There was no easy way to bring the subject of condoms up. "Planning on getting lucky this week?"

He looked at me quickly. "What?"

"I mean, you must've been thinking something was going to happen this week considering the big box of condoms that were in your bags," I told him. "Or were you just thinking ahead for next week?"

I stopped, dropping his hand and crossing my arms across my chest.

"How did you know?" he asked in disbelief.

"Mr. Dempsey told me," I told him.

He was silent and sullen.

"I'm waiting for an explanation," I said, scowling.

He shrugged. "I just thought… Well… I wasn't sure if…" His voice trailed off. He shrugged again. "If anything did happen, I wanted to be sure we were prepared."

"If anything happened?" I repeated. "If anything happened?!" I was on the verge of hysterics. "What did you think was going to happen?"

His face turned red. "We'll we've been dating for a while and we've been pretty far pretty fast and I just thought…"

"You thought I'd be ready to do it with you after we've been dating for a month?" I shouted. "Are you insane? I'm not even sixteen, for gosh sakes!"

"I'm sorry! I just didn't want something to happen and not have protection!" he said, starting to get angry as well.

"Did you think something was going to happen at band camp? With a million chaperones around us, watching our every move?" I asked. "Where were you planning on doing it? Your room that you are sharing with another teenage boy who probably leaves his sweaty clothes around? In the band room? Oh I know! One of the practice rooms, up against the piano! That would be really fabulous!"

His face was turning red. "I didn't know!" he said. "I didn't really think it would be this week but it seems like we get closer and closer every time!"

"Do you really think we're ready to go to that level? After knowing each other for a month?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Some people do it on the first date."

I shook my head, disgusted. "Well, I think that's a bit soon, don't you?"

He nodded.

I tried to calm myself down, inhaling deeply. "Look," I said. "I am in no way, shape, or form, ready to sleep with you. I can't tell you when I'll be ready. I do, however, know that it will not be this week. It will probably not be next week. And I also doubt it will be the week after that. If you have a problem with that, please leave now."

I turned away from him, waiting to hear his footsteps. I'd take my pride, my dignity, and my virtue over him, even though I really, really liked him. There were no footsteps away from me, however. A pair of warm, solid arms wrapped around my waist.

"I'll wait," he whispered in my ear. "I like you a lot, Fern. I can wait as long as you need to. I want our first time to be special."

"Good," I said, relieved. At least that was taken care of. I turned around in his arms and clasped my hands behind his neck. "I'm sorry for raising such a fuss."

"It's okay, baby," he said. "I want you to be happy and I want this to work."

"So do I," I told him. "Let's not fight again. Ever."

"Okay," he said with a smile.

The scene was like something out of a movie, I imagine. The sun was setting over the park, making the sky glow violet and gold and rose. It was a perfect romantic backdrop as Rob leaned down and kissed me, softly and tenderly. He made me feel so cherished in that moment. I didn't want to let it go. Gently, he hugged me and then the kiss ended.

"Let's get you back to your dorm," he said.

I smiled and took the hand he offered me. With the sun setting behind us, we walked together back to the girl's dorm. He kissed me good night at the door and at least for a while, I was content.

XxXxXxXxX

And so you all know, all the characters here? Yeah, I own them.

Reviews are appreciated. I tend to write faster if I know people are reading. All of you can thank Amyjenc1 for leaving a review on 5/14. She kick started me into action.

And…

Chapter twenty-one may be out as soon as tomorrow or as late as next week. Please review or I will wait to post. : )


	21. XXI

Band camp is usually a blast. We march, we play, and get no sleep because after practice, everyone goes out. Having band camp at Cabot was a little different but it was even more fun. There were a ton of new rules though, mostly associated with dorm life. For instance, there is a set bed time. Lights out is at 11:30 and you must be in YOUR room. I tried to stick around in Serena's room on Monday night. Mrs. James had a heart attack and a half. Second, you must keep your room clean. Inspection was held every morning, right before breakfast. For the rest of the day, you could be as slovenly as you pleased but all rooms had to be clean for inspection. If it wasn't, you faced demerits.

Dakota's and my room was an incredible mess until about an hour before inspection every morning. As we were both section leaders, neither of us wanted to get any demerits for having a messy room. Two minutes after inspection was over, all of our stuff was back in its original places.

"How much time do we have?" I asked Dakota on Tuesday morning.

She looked at her watch. "Fifteen minutes," she said.

"Eep!" I squeaked, folding my remaining clothes even faster. I had foolishly thought I had packed enough. With unseasonably high temperatures, I was forced to change my clothes at least twice a day. I barely had any clothes left. The rest were stuffed into a big bag with Dakota's clothes, ready to be laundered.

"Relax," she said. "It was messier than this yesterday morning and we managed to get everything cleaned up in five minutes."

"I guess," I replied. With so many of my clothes in the laundry, I was left with my last resort clothing: soccer shorts that were a bit too short, a black sports bra, and a pale yellow tank top that was pretty much sheer when something dark was placed behind it. You could see the black sports bra oh so clearly. I didn't have anything else to wear that I could march in, though. All my other clothes were my good lesson clothes that I needed to wear to Baltimore the next day.

"Make your bed!" Dakota reminded me, as she dashed to the bathroom to get paper towels to clean up the spilled soda from the night before. Her long blonde hair swung behind her as she jogged.

"Got it!" I told her, abandoning my clothes temporarily to make my bed. There was no quarter-bounce precision here. I smoothed the fitted sheet, pulled the flat sheet up to the head of the bed, and yanked my green comforter up over the sheets, pulling it so it hung evenly. Then I placed my pillows at the head of the bed. Good. One very important thing was out of the way. Mrs. James was a stickler for made beds.

Dakota dashed back in the door and began scrubbing furiously at the spilled soda. She had kicked a bottle of grape soda then night before while we were lounging in the room, watching movies on my laptop.

I returned to my clothing. Previously, I had just shoved it all in the drawer. Monday morning, however, Mrs. James had actually gone as far as to check the drawers and closets. She'd given me a hard look when she saw the balled up clothes and let me off with a warning. Today, there would be no such luck.

Two pairs of shorts were left to fold and I had five minutes left. At least shorts were easy. I put them back in one of my drawers and slammed it shut, causing all the bottles I had sitting on top of the dresser to tilt and then fall. I set them back up quickly, placing them in neat rows. I even organized the bottles in my shower caddy.

"Can you do my bed?" Dakota asked.

"Yes," I said, jumping to do the task. We were in this together. Making her bed quickly and neatly, I thought of everything else we had to get done before inspection. My desk was still a mess, with sheet music, drill sheets, and papers thrown every where. After I put Dakota's pillows in place, I started sorting through the things on my desk, separating them into piles: band music, French horn music, drills, homework, miscellaneous, and trash.

"Fern! There's no time for you to be specific!" Dakota shouted.

I looked at the clock. One minute to go. I could hear Mrs. James coming down the hall. I then separated only the band music and drill sheets that I would need that day and stacked everything else in a neat pile. I closed and unplugged my laptop, setting it on top of the stack of papers. Just as Dakota threw the paper towels into the trash can, Mrs. James knocked on the door.

"Good morning Fern. Good morning Dakota," she said, smiling pleasantly. "Made it in the nick of time?"

I nodded. "Yup. I even folded my clothes today."

She laughed. "Okay. Give me two minutes and then you two can go to breakfast."

She looked under both our beds, in the drawers and closets, and checked the desk drawers. "All right. Spic and span. You two can go eat. Make sure to lock up on the way out. Whoever keeps messing up your room right after I leave needs to stay out." She laughed at her own joke as she walked out of the room and down the hall.

"Whew," I said, moving all the papers on the desk back the way I wanted them.

Dakota shook her head. "So much work for two minutes of critique."

"I know it," I said. "Are you ready to eat?"

"Yeah," she said. "Let's go. We can take our clothes to the laundry room on the way."

The two of us exited our room and walked down the hallway, dragging the huge bag of clothes behind us. As we went, I saw a few other girls frantically cleaning their rooms as they waited for their inspection. In the basement, we went into the laundry room. I used a few quarters to secure enough detergent and fabric softener while Dakota started the machine. There was no time to separate the clothes into darks, colors, and whites so we'd just wash them all together. Three other machines were already whirling and clunking ominously with their full loads. It seemed more girls than just us were changing their clothes way too many times a day.

Once we were sure our clothes were in the washer and were being cleaned, we left for breakfast. "Hey baby," Rob said, kissing me briefly when I met him at the entrance to the cafeteria.

"Hey," I replied with a small smile.

Serena and Dakota made puking sounds.

"Oh shut up," I said, settling an arm around Rob's waist.

Together, we got in line. I snagged two eggs over easy and peanut butter toast for me and then poured Rob's cereal while he got in line for drinks. I took cranberry juice and coffee while he preferred orange juice. We had a nice little system going at breakfast since we ate the same thing every day.

We sat down at a table in a sunny corner. "So what's on the schedule for this morning?" Rob asked.

"You do have your own schedule, you know," I reminded him as I pulled my schedule out of my pocket.

"I know," he said. "I just like how you read it."

His words were cheesy, even to me. I just rolled my eyes. "Breakfast from 8:00-9:00 followed by sectionals from 9:45 to 11:00. Marching games from 11:15 to 12:15 on the main field. Lunch from 12:30 to 1:30. Break from 1:30 to 2:30. Music practice at 2:45 in the band room until dinner at 6:00. Dinner is from 6:00 to 7:00. At 7:30, we meet on the marching field to run the drill until 9:00. After nine, is quiet time in the dorms," I recited from the sheet. "Full day, it seems."

"You've got that right," Rob said. He took a sip of his orange juice.

"Hmm," I said. "I need to figure out what to run at sectionals this morning. Most of mine are doing pretty well. We'll be ready for seating next week."

"Do the senior and junior horns hate you?" Dakota asked.

I shook my head. "There are only two seniors and two juniors in a section of twelve. They know I'm better than them and they are perfectly happy listening to me."

"Oh," Dakota said.

"How many guys are in your section?" Rob asked.

"Five, I think," I told him. "Jake, Roger, Frank, Danny, and John. Jake is a senior, Roger is a sophomore, and the other three are freshman."

He chewed his cereal thoughtfully. He was thinking something and I had a feeling I wasn't going to like it. "So… you're going to change before sectionals, right?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I don't have any clothes left but my nice ones."

"Then wear them," he said, as if it were obvious.

"I can't. I need them to be clean for tomorrow," I said. Why was he being such a chauvinist?

"You can't go to sectionals like that," he told me.

"And why not?" I asked. "What's wrong with how I'm dressed?"

"Oh come on, Fern," he said.

"No, I want to hear this," I said. "Explain to me why I can't go to sectionals like this. Go ahead, Rob."

"Fern, your shorts are really short and you can see your bra through your shirt. You're showing way too much," he said. "I don't want everyone to see you."

"I don't belong to you," I told him. "This outfit is all that I had left to wear. Unless you're suggesting that I put on the sweaty, nasty, and smelly clothes that I wore yesterday, this is what I'm wearing."

"I'm not suggesting that," he said, angrily. "Nor am I suggesting I own you."

"Because you don't," I said.

"I know!" he said. "God, Fern. We're in a relationship! I don't want other people to see you like this!"

"The only people who are going to see me like this are the people in the band!" I said. "I've known all of them for a million years. Trust me, I have no romantic feelings for any of the guys in this band other than you. Most of them view me as a sister."

"What about that guy you were on the date with when we met?" he asked. "What about him?"

"He really doesn't like me now since I abandoned him for you," I said. "Trust me, he's not competition to you."

"The instructors? The band director?" he asked. "Believe me, they all seem to want to watch you just a little too much. Why does Mr. Dempsey seem so concerned with everything you do?"

"Are you suggesting I'm in a relationship with my band director?" I asked. Oh boy. Here we go. I would have rather liked to be in a relationship with my band director. Trouble was, he now hated me. There was more or less no chance of anything happening. Ever. So there was really no point in mentioning any of this to Rob.

"No!" he exclaimed. "But there is definitely something going on there."

"No, there definitely _isn't_ something going on there," I told him. And there definitely wasn't. Not anymore, at least.

He huffed. "I don't want anyone looking at you."

"Misogynistic pig," I said. I wasn't done eating my breakfast but I suddenly was not hungry at all. I grabbed my tray and stalked away from the table.

"Fern, wait!" Rob called after me.

I ignored his pleas, dumping my tray and striding toward the door. As I made to leave the hall, I heard a snide voice behind me.

"Trouble in paradise?"

I turned to see Mr. Dempsey looking at me. He almost looked concerned. Almost, but not quite.

"Like you care," I said, turning toward the door.

"Miss Scott?" he said.

I turned back to him expectantly.

"You may want to change your clothes. The marching band is almost half male," he said.

I growled and stalked away from him. It was going to be a peachy day at band camp. Making my way back to the dorm, I went down to the laundry room. There were about two minutes left of the final rinse cycle of our clothes so I decided to wait and move them into the dryer. I leaned up against one of the empty dryers, staking it out. I crossed my arms over my chest.

How dare either of them talk to me like they could tell me what to do? I was my own, independent person and I would not conform to their expectations. Either way, did either of them really think I was wearing short shorts and a sheer tank top for any reason other than necessity? Believe me, if I had any other clothes that I could conceivably wear for practice, I would have had them on. The only clothes I had left, however, were either all a) too nice, b) dirty, or c) even more of a last resort than the yellow tank top. Therefore, the shorts and tank top stayed.

When the washer screeched to a halt and drained the water, I opened up the door on a dryer and stuffed all of Dakota's and my sodden clothes into the dryer. After shutting the metal door with a satisfying clang, I popped a few quarters in and set the dryer. It was 8:30 so I had a little more than an hour before I needed to go to the main band building for sectionals. With this time, I decided to practice my horn.

I played through my scales and arpeggios seamlessly. The low notes were rich and full and beautiful. The upper notes were light and floated weightlessly. At least my warm ups and technique exercises always sounded wonderful. It was my solo pieces that usually sounded dull and flat. I sight read a passage quickly and easily. Technique was not an issue for me. Then I took out my solo assignments for the week.

None of them were hard pieces compared to some of the things I'd played before. My assignments were mostly lyrical and called for a great deal of expression. I played all of the marking as written and even added a few swells, fermatas, and pauses where I thought they should fall. The music sounded beautiful, like the sounding brass should echo from concert halls every where. It came out of my horn, wrapping me in a soft blanket.

Somehow the music felt… cold, though. I couldn't tell you exactly why it was cold. My tone was plenty warm and round and full. It just lacked the depth and emotion typical of my playing, something that was necessary to separate me from being a person who played the French horn and a French horn player. Where had I lost it? Where had I left the sparkle? I couldn't figure it out.

After practicing for an hour, I packed my horn away but decided to take one of my books with me. There was a tonguing exercise that I thought would help the section play with more precision during runs.

The show consisted of three songs from the soundtracks of popular summer movies: Pirates of the Caribbean III, Spider Man III, and Shrek III. It was called "Attack of the Trequels" and from what I'd seen of the music, it looked like a blast. The combinations of songs were a little off the wall but somehow it worked. The show opened with the main theme from PotC, segueing into "Signal Fire" from Spiderman III, and ending with "Barracuda" from Shrek III. While horns shared the melody in "Signal Fire," the other two pieces had some weird runs that the section wasn't usually required to play. I would bring my section up to the challenge.

I grabbed the book and my manilla folder full of the section's music. Mr. Dempsey had decided to spend the first two days focused utterly on marching and music technique rather than learning the show music. We'd marched all of the formations to metronome clicks. I'd memorized all of my movements and had made sure my section was doing the same. There was no way the horns would be the slowest section of the field. I jogged over to the main music building and took my mellophone out of the locker. Everybody was gathered in the band room, waiting for sectional room assignments.

"Okay everyone, listen up for room assignments!" Mr. Dempsey shouted after a few minutes. "Percussion: percussion locker room. Flutes: theatre A. Clarinets: Theatre B. Saxes: main auditorium. Trumpets: Brass locker room. Horns: right in here for observation."

Observation? Observation! Did he really think he needed to baby sit my section? I could run a sectional just fine. I wasn't an idiot. I was student director, even! As steamed as I was, I'd just have to deal with it. Once the rest of the band had left the room, I gather the rest of my section around.

"Okay, let's start out by warming up and tuning. We need to work the kinks out before we put our noses to the grindstone," I said. "Does everyone have access to a stand?"

My section mumbled and nodded affirmations.

"Okay, horns up," I said. I moved my arm in the gesture I'd seen the drum majors use so many times and all of then raised their horns to their lips.

"B flat concert scale, whole notes, on my count," I said. I'd never been particularly good at playing mellophone one handed but I made it work somehow. I conducted in slow four, bringing the section up and down the scale.

"Good," I said, after cutting them off. "Same exercise, half notes."

I led them through the scale and then had them play it as a round before moving on to tune. I brought out my electronic tuner and tuned myself with it and then had the rest listen and tune with me. I didn't want them to fully rely on digital tuners; they needed to learn to listen.

"Before I pass out your music, there is one exercise I'd like to go over with you guys. I've already played through the show music and there are some runs in there. We don't usually need to play sixteenth note runs so I've got some agility exercises to prepare for this."

I passed sheets around to all of my section. There were a few simple exercises on the sheets: double tonguing, intervals, and ascending and descending runs at a fast tempo. After about twenty minutes, I was satisfied enough with their progress to pass out the music. I thanked my lucky stars that there were twelve French horns in my section as I passed the music out. One of the songs had two parts, the other three, and the last had four. Our number worked out evenly for all of them.

"Now, I'm giving all of you the music I think you will be playing in the show. However, we have not had official seating arrangements yet so your parts may change. For now, this is what we're working with," I told them.

For the first time, as I led them in sight-reading through the first piece, I noticed Mr. Dempsey scowling at me. I had no idea what he would be scowling at me for. The practice was going very well. They were actually getting what I told them to do.

The time passed very quickly but I knew we had made excellent progress. We weren't having any problems at all with the first two pieces. The last piece just needed a little more fine tuning: one of the runs was kind of sloppy but was definitely workable.

"Miss. Scott, can I speak to you outside?" Mr. Dempsey asked about ten minutes before everyone else was supposed to be back in the room.

"But…" I was going to protest until I saw the look in his eyes. "Jake, lead the section in cool down exercises. Long tones, scales and arpeggios will do nicely," I told him, following Mr. Dempsey out of the room.

As the door clicked shut, he turned on me.

"What the hell are you thinking?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I replied, very confused.

"The way you run your section!" he exclaimed. "My God Fern! That is no way to deal with your instrumentalists!"

"What do you mean? We've got the first two songs down pat and the last song is almost done!" I exclaimed.

"You talk to them on friendly terms! You don't command them to do things, you ask them to. How do you expect them to respect you when you ask like you're their best friend?"

"I _am_ friends with them!" I exclaimed angrily. "Haven't you ever heard that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar? You try order them around and see how far you get!"

"I'm telling you this is how things are done! You are the section leader, you are in charge! You say jump, they say how high. Stop being so nice!" he said.

"Why would I change the way I run things when this obviously works?" I said. "We're doing great!"

"Yeah, but you can do better. Why did you waste so much time on warm ups and exercises?" he asked. "If you hadn't, you would've finished the final piece!"

"How do you know that?" I shouted. "We needed the warm ups to preserve the sound and to get the technique down. If you can't see that, you're an idiot!"

"I'm an idiot? How dare you speak to me like that! I'm your band director!" he screamed at me.

I could tell this was escalating quickly into a shouting match. My frustration grew. Why wasn't he listening?

"I know you're my band director!" I shouted back. "And I thought you were my friend but no! You can't get over the fact that I have a boyfriend!"

"This has nothing to do with the idiot boy of yours!" he yelled. "If it were about him, I'd have kicked out of band by now. No! This is about you!"

"Me?" I shrieked. "Me? No, no, no, no, no! You've got it all wrong. This is about you, you and your need to control me and keep me from doing what needs to be done!"

He laughed in my face. "You're so stupid! How could I have ever thought you were an intelligent person? My God!"

Tears of frustration prickled my eyes. "I am not stupid!" I cried. "And if I ever was stupid, I was stupid in ever believing that you were a good person! You can't even let me be happy!"

"Happy? You know what would make both of us happy?" he asked, seizing my upper arms and forcing me to look into his eyes. The tears kept burning across my face. "If you would just grow up and stop believing the world revolves around you!"

"I know it doesn't, you asshole!" I screamed. "God damn you! I liked you, you said no! Now get the stick out of your ass and deal with your decisions!"

"What right have you that you can tell me what to do?" he said, shaking me. "Huh? Do enlighten me!" His eyes bored angrily into mine. "Answer me, damnit! Your tears won't work on me!"

I was crying too hard to muster an answer. I choked back a sob. "I thought I had a right, as your friend. But you've made it very clear that you hate me."

He released my upper arms, still holding my eyes. I could barely see him through the tears. Then he backed away from me.

"You're dismissed from the marching games. I'll take this," he said, snatching my horn from my hands. "Go clean yourself up." He walked toward the band room and opened the door. "And by clean yourself up, I mean change your clothes and wash your face. You look like a possessed whore."

I couldn't hold the tears back anymore. As he stepped back into the band room, I collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Fern?"

It was Rob's voice.

"Fern, baby, what's wrong?" His footsteps quickened as he rushed to my side.

I tried to choke out a response but I couldn't.

He wrapped his arms around my shaking shoulders. "Shhhh. It's okay. It's alright. Whatever's wrong, I'm here. Don't worry," he soothed.

I didn't care that we had fought earlier. I took the comfort of his arms and cried to him, even though I couldn't tell him everything that was wrong. It was nice just to feel loved.

XxXxXxXxX

Wow… that chapter was much longer than the norm. But… I like it. Except David. I really hate him at this moment.

I really intended to post on Friday but with all the chaos that had been going on, that turned out to be an impossibility. A relative had surgery on Friday and then I left to see my older brother graduate from college.

Just so you all know… I love it when people contact me. If you have any questions or just want to chat, feel free to email me or use AIM (s/n: Loudsilence99). I may even offer you sneak peeks of what's coming up. ; )

So, until next time (which will hopefully be this week).


	22. XXII

Mr. Harvey called on Tuesday night, saying something had come up and he wouldn't be able to transport me to my Wednesday afternoon lesson. However, Mr. Spear would not allow me to skip, short of an emergency. Therefore, Mr. Harvey arranged for Mr. Dempsey to take me on Wednesday.

I had never felt more hated than when I sat in that car with him.

After the shit had hit the fan the day before, I had dried my eyes in Rob's caring arms. Under Mr. Dempsey's orders, I skipped the marching games and went back to the dorm. After a quick, cold shower, I found that Dakota's and my clothes were clean and fresh from the dryer. I'd folded all of our laundry and changed into a more modest outfit: khaki Bermuda shorts and a pale blue tee-shirt with a white sports bra underneath. I didn't look like a—as Mr. Dempsey phrased it—possessed whore. I just looked like myself.

Rob was on his best behavior for the rest of the afternoon. He was gentle and caring and loving without being overbearing and disgusting. I appreciated that he was there. At the afternoon music practice, I found that my section had gotten twice as far as the rest of the band. The tubas couldn't even get halfway through the opener. I couldn't believe the fuss Mr. Dempsey had made. I guess that was the way things had to be. He couldn't accept that I was good at what I did.

I was unprepared for the fact that the shit was all going to hit the fan again, this time with an even more violent explosion.

Mr. Dempsey told me to meet him in the lobby of my dorm at seven on Wednesday morning. It was a four hour drive from Cabot to Baltimore. Leaving at seven, we'd arrive around eleven, making me three hours early for my two o'clock lesson. I didn't see the logic in leaving so early but I wasn't going to say anything to David.

I went down to the lobby at about five minutes to seven. The dorm was quiet. Most of the girls on the first floor left getting up until the last possible second. I, however, had gotten up at quarter to six in order to look presentable. I wore my khaki skirt and a pale blue blouse with brown beaded flip-flops. My hair was soft and clean and parted to the side. It was growing in fast and covered the puckered scar on the back of my head but it still looked like a boy's haircut. I'd even taken the time to put on make up: mascara and a little bit of eyeliner and eye shadow. Lipgloss was, of course, useless since it would all rub off the second I put my horn to my lips.

I leaned back against the wall, heavy a sigh. I'd tucked two books from my English summer reading assignment into by purse to read on the way. I wasn't sure what the ride would bring. Would he talk to me? If he did, what would he say? Would he be nice, or would he act like he had the day before?

"Fern."

I looked up to see him standing in the doorway. He looked nice in his khakis and a dark blue polo shirt. His expression wasn't dark, to my surprise.

He gestured for me to come out to the door. Gathering my French horn, purse, and bag of music books, I followed him out the door and to his car in silence. He took the instrument from me and placed it in the backseat. He then opened the passenger's side door for me. I settled into the seat and he closed it with a gentle click. As I buckled my seatbelt, he came around and sat down in the driver's seat. All of this was done in silence. He turned the key in the ignition. Before he buckled his seatbelt, he reached behind him, producing two large Styrofoam cups with lids in a drink tray and a Dunkin Donut's bag. He set the tray on my lap and handed me the bag. He buckled his seatbelt and shifted the car into reverse, backing out of the parking space in front of the dorm. As we turned onto the road, he turned the radio on. A CD of marching band music played softly.

The cups in the cardboard drink tray were warm and the bag from Dunkin Donuts smelled softly of sugar and chocolate.

He cleared his throat. "I got us each a caramel latte. I know you're not supposed to have coffee before your lesson but we've got seven hours for you to get the sugar and acids out of your mouth." He paused. "There are donuts in the bag. The cruller and one of the Boston crèmes are mine. Now if you will hand me my coffee."

I wiggled one of the cups out of its cardboard confines. The steam drifting through the tiny holes in the lids smelled heavenly. I took the other cup and took a careful sip. It was hot but not scalding. Perfect. I reached in the bag and took a chocolate glazed donut.

"Thank you," I said, before I bit into the donut.

"You're welcome," he said, his eyes focused on the road.

In a small way, I guess he was trying to make up for things. Maybe. I didn't know whether he was trying to make peace or just placate me. Maybe it was both. Time would tell.

Neither of us spoke for the first half an hour of the drive as he navigated to I-95 to take us Baltimore. I drank my latte and ate a chocolate glazed and a Boston Crème donut.

Then I made the very foolish decision to say something.

"Thank you for taking me," I said, clearing my throat. I studied his profile. "I know you're really busy with band camp

"You're welcome," he said, not looking at me. He was silent for a few minutes. "For a few hours, at least, I don't have to worry about you and that boyfriend of yours."

"Why would you worry about me and Rob?" I demanded. "We've done nothing wrong!"

"Nothing that I've seen or been told about," he retorted.

"That's because we haven't done anything!" I told him. "It's not like we'd have an opportunity anyway. You've been watching me like I'm a convicted felon!"

"Well somebody needs to watch you," he told me. "Even if you aren't doing it yet, your boy toy brought a massive box of condoms with him. Obviously, he thinks you will be doing something."

"Oh, you just have to bring that up, don't you?" I said with a huff. "I have no intention of sleeping with him, regardless of what he thinks."

He snorted derisively.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

"Get off your high horse, Fern," he scoffed. "You know damn well you'd do anything he asked you to do."

"Oh, fuck you," I said, infuriated. "Don't you dare judge me or presume to know me or Rob. Unlike you, Rob respects me and respects my choices."

He snorted. "Your little boyfriend is just like every other teenage boy, Fern," he said. "He's hormone crazed and despite what he tells you, he just wants one thing from you."

"He has a name, you know," I snapped. I shook my head. "I know what this is about."

"Oh? Tell me, oh wise one," he said sarcastically.

"You're jealous," I said simply.

He laughed. "Jealous? Of that teenage pretty boy?"

I nodded firmly. "You are. You with you and that Susan bitch have what Rob and I have. Please tell me she's good for something at least. When I met her for those brief moments, she seemed like a total ditz."

He glared at me but didn't deny it. He huffed loudly. "Think what you want to. It doesn't make it the truth."

"Likewise to you," I retorted. "I don't see what your problem is."

"My problem?" he asked. "Let's talk about _your_ problem. You can't seem to follow the rules!"

"I've been following the rules just fine!" I exclaimed. "You're just so busy trying to find any fault in me, you can't see it! You've got a gigantic stick up your ass and a load of wool over your eyes."

"Oh please. You're the only one who thinks I'm not being fair," he scoffed.

"Well, I'm the only one whose life you're making a living hell," I pointed out. "None of them would complain, now would they?"

"You do plenty wrong!" he said.

"Like what?" I demanded.

"Like… your attire yesterday," he said.

"I needed to do laundry!" I told him. "There was no official dress code for band and I wore what I had. Don't even try to tell me you would've done the same thing if it had been any other girl but me."

"I don't even recognize you anymore," he said. "What the hell happened to the girl who helped me clean up the band room? What about the one that helped me move into my apartment?"

"I don't know," I snapped. "Maybe she got tired of being treated unfairly."

He shook his head in disgust. "What in the world was I thinking?" he muttered under his breath. We lapsed into a tense silence. His eyes practically bored holes into other cars on the highway. I stared out the side window, watching trees flash by. It was going to be a torturous day.

We arrived in Baltimore at eleven. Instead of driving to the opulent buildings of the Baltimore Music Academy, we wound our way down streets that were unfamiliar to me. We ended up in the inner harbor and he signaled me out of the car wordlessly. Silently, he strode into Barnes and Noble and I followed wordlessly. I couldn't figure out what was going on.

"Here, two hours, amuse yourself," he grunted as we passed through the doors.

I could see the café just beyond the entrance and sitting at one of the tables with a cup of coffee was the obnoxiously pretty blonde I had seen him with that wonderful day at Arby's. So there was our reason for coming early.

"Can I leave the building?" I asked.

"Whatever," he told me, striding toward Susan. He waved me off. I watched as he greeted her with a kiss and sat down across from her and took her hand in his. I felt a pang of… something. It was some longing emotion. I didn't know what it was but I never wanted to feel it again.

I wandered around the stacks of books, looking at a few volumes before deciding my time was better spent elsewhere. David and his ditzy girlfriend were staring at each other over an apple pastry as I ducked out the swinging glass doors and heading for the street. The aquarium was close by and I decided my time was better spent there. I walked through the doors and paid the fee for a ticket.

I strolled around the aquarium, looking at the tanks of animals. They were all different and unique and beautiful in their own way. I stopped to look at a tank full of tiny seahorses. Above the tank, a sign told me a little bit about the creatures. Fortunately for the girl seahorses, the males carried the young. I wished I was a seahorse. Life would have been so much less complicated. I could swim around in a tank all day, mate, and make the guy carry around the kids. It sounded like a great life to me.

As I looked at all the exhibits, examining all kinds of marine animals, I lost track of time. Before I knew it, it was a little past one o'clock. As I was speed-walking out of the aquarium, my cell phone went off. I didn't stop as I pulled it out of my purse and flipped it open to answer it.

"Hello?" I said.

"Where the fuck are you?" an angry voice demanded.

"Mr. Dempsey?" I asked, slightly confused.

"Who the hell do you think it is?" he asked. "Where are you?"

"I'm on my way," I said.

"I didn't ask if you were on your way, I asked where you were!" he shouted.

I held the phone a bit away from my ear. "I'm in the aquarium and I'll be out in less that five minutes so go make out with your girlfriend and I'll be there in a second."

"What the hell were you doing in the aquarium!" he raged.

"You told me to do whatever. I'm not a book person! When I asked if I could leave, you told me I could!" I shouted. I was rounding the corner toward the front exit of the building.

"I did not tell you that you could go anywhere you wanted without telling me!" he said angrily.

"Well you damn well could've clarified that!" I exclaimed, pushing through the doors at the front of the building. "A simple, 'Tell me if you're going somewhere,' would've sufficed, you know!"

"I shouldn't have had to say anything!" he said. "It should have been obvious that you needed to tell me before you went gallivanting off into the city! Baltimore is dangerous! You could've gotten mugged, raped, or killed and I never would've known where you were!"

"Oh, now you're concerned about me?" I questioned. I was livid. "Now you're worried that something could happen? It seems to me that until now, you were too worried about your girlfriend being here to care about anything I did."

"That was uncalled for," he seethed.

"It was so called for!" I said, making my way across the pavement to the Barnes and Noble. "You dragged me here three hours before my lesson so you could go make out with your girlfriend in a bookstore."

"So what?" he answered. "You make out with your little boyfriend at every available opportunity. Shouldn't I do the same?"

I strode up the stone steps to the bookstore. I could see him through the glass doors, scowling, as he held his cell phone up to his ear.

"You know damn well that Rob and I don't make out all the time," I snapped.

"Oh that's right," he said, as I pushed through the inner doors. "Soon you'll be off making babies instead."

When he saw me, he glared at me and flipped his phone shut. I did likewise.

"Come on," he snarled, gripping my upper arm and yanking me through the doorway.

His hand hurt as he dragged me through the doors and down the street to the car. I climbed in the passenger's seat and we sped off toward the academy, a stony silence between us. We arrived at the building and made our way to Mr. Spear's studio in silence. When we were ushered inside, I prepared for my lesson, taking out my horn and music while Mr. Dempsey settled into a chair in the corner, his arms folded across his chest as he glared at me.

Mr. Spear flicked on the metronome. "Chromatic scale, full range, eighth notes," he said.

I took a deep, steadying breath and started the scale, working my way from the bottom to top. He stopped me before I could play the highest note.

"No," he said. "Not right. Again."

Nothing I could do or play was right. It was bad, even by my apparently abysmal standard. I was frustrated that it wasn't working and every time I looked over at Mr. Dempsey my frustration and my anger grew and my playing got worse and worse.

"Enough!" Mr. Spear roared after little more than half an hour. "Put your horn away and if I ever hear you play like that again, I will break your instrument and make sure you never play again!"

I went to put my horn in its case.

"This isn't entirely Alex's fault, you know," Mr. Spear said, rounding on Mr. Dempsey. "You're ruining her."

"This has absolutely nothing to do with me," Mr. Dempsey argued. "It's her own damn fault she can't play."

"You have a bad attitude," Mr. Spear said. "Can't you see how you're affecting her?" he raged. "Can't you see what you're doing to her?"

"What am I doing to her?" he asked incredulously.

"You are ruining what was once a great horn player!" he shouted. "You sit there, scowling like you hate her, not to mention you're ruining her embouchure by insisting that she march. You disgust me."

Mr. Spear shook his head. "Alex, I expect much better on Saturday. And until he learns some manners, I'd rather you missed a lesson than bring him with you again."

If it was even possible, David stalked out of the studio in an even worse mood than when he went in. If looks could kill, everything in his path would've perished instantly. I couldn't believe Mr. Spear had raged at him that way but in a way, it served him right. If he wasn't such an ass, maybe I'd've been playing wonderfully like I should have.

We went to the car in silence and he drove to the nearest Starbucks for my after lesson coffee. He sat down at a café table with his latte while I waited for my cappuccino. Steam was practically pouring out of his ears. I dreaded sitting down at the table with him, knowing the tirade I was about to hear would be vicious. When I finally made my way to the table after much delay, the explosion was even worse than I feared.

"Can't you take any responsibility for your own damn life?" he screamed. "My God! You are just a stupid little bitch! You think everyone else is responsible for everything you do wrong. Well guess what! I will not be your scapegoat here! You need to bone up and grow up! You aren't five anymore and you can't hide behind mommy and daddy's protection. I won't let you make a fool out of me! Get your act together or get out!"

He raged on and on. People stared at us, open mouthed. The manager stared at us and would have made his way over if not for the huge line of customers waiting for their dose of caffeine. Tears trickled down my cheeks. What had I done to deserve this? Why was this happening? I thought we were friends!

"Don't you dare try to use tears on me," he said. "It won't work. Grow up and stop acting like a baby. Take responsibility for your own life."

With those words, he got up and stormed out of the crowded café as everyone stared. An elderly lady handed me a tissue as the tears poured down my face. What was I going to do?


	23. XXIII

The aftermath of my lesson was harsh. Mr. Dempsey left me at Starbucks for an hour, wondering what I was going to do, how I'd get back to band camp. Just as I was getting desperate, he drove back up though, and pulled me by the arm into the car. We didn't speak at all on the way back. He had a terrible scowl on his face and if I even looked at him, he shot me a dirty look, as if everything that was wrong was solely my fault. How had things gotten this far? We'd been great friends and suddenly, he hated me. Was this all just because I'd gotten a boyfriend?

He barely seemed to stop when he drove up in front of my dorm. Granted, I leapt from the car as quickly as I could, unable to bear the tension any longer. It was tangible, like toxic fumes in the air between us. It was suffocating and I needed to escape.

I walked up the steps and into the deserted dorm. Everyone else was in sectionals. My mellophones would have to suffer without me. Even though my clothes weren't dirty, I changed into clean shorts and a tee-shirt. When I went in the bathroom, I saw that the make-up I'd applied so carefully that morning was smeared across my face. Mascara was smudged under my eyes in streaky half-moons and trails of eyeliner were dribbled across my cheeks. I'd cried too much that afternoon. My eyes were still red-rimmed and blood shot. Dakota, Serena, and Rob would all think something terrible had happened.

Well… Something terrible _had _happened, just not the kind of thing they'd understand. How does one explain that the man they like a lot had raged against them and left them crying in a Starbucks?

My stomach was upset just thinking about it. How had things gone so wrong? As I remember the words he had said in the car on the way there, over the phone, and in Starbucks, my stomach gave a giant, painful twist and emptied itself. I knelt on the cold, bathroom floor, coughing and sputtering, the sour taste of vomit and bile in my throat. My knees shook and wobbled as I tried to stand. After rinsing out my mouth, I climbed into bed, still dressed. I clutched at my pillow, willing it to be the cure to my nausea. It wasn't though, and with my stomach still twisting, I fell into a fitful sleep.

I dreamed strange dreams as I slept in the afternoon sun.

_I was in one of the tanks at the aquarium, suspended in the water. Outside the tank, I saw Mr. Spear and Mr. Dempsey and Rob and Mr. Harvey. They all stared at me. Through the thick glass and the water, I could still hear their voices._

_"I've never seen one quite like this," Mr. Spear said._

_"She sure is special," Mr. Harvey agreed._

_"I've seen much better," Mr. Dempsey scoffed. "This one needs to grow up." _

_"Oh, I'll take her just as she is," Rob said._

_I banged on the glass trying to get out. It felt as if the water was crushing me, suddenly. Then I realized I couldn't breathe underwater I felt like I was choking. I couldn't breathe. Water was filling my lungs as I tried desperately to swim to the surface. _

"Fern?"

My eyes snapped open to see a sweaty Dakota standing over top of me, a worried expression on her face.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You were screaming in your sleep."

"I was having a nightmare," I explained, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

"Oh," she said. "How was your lesson?"

"Abysmal," I replied, swinging my feet to the floor. "How was practice today?"

"Without Mr. Dempsey here to regulate things? Terrible," she said. "The underclassmen think they can do anything they want without him here."

I snorted. "He's not that powerful."

"Oh yes he is," she argued. "I don't know what beef there is between the two of you but you have to admit he's a good teacher."

I shrugged.

"Why does he seem to hate you?" she asked. "You're the best player here."

"Try telling him that," I said. "There was a misunderstanding and he doesn't want to admit he was wrong."

"Oh," she replied. She shrugged. "Guys can be like that sometimes."

"Indeed they can," I replied grimly.

"Rob seemed very forlorn without you," Dakota said, changing the subject. "That boy has got it bad."

I smiled. "Well, I have it bad too."

"Please don't go around making goo-goo eyes at each other during dinner. I don't think I can stand it," she pleaded.

"Oh shut up," I said. "We don't make goo-goo eyes at each other."

"Nah," she said. "You just stare at each other adoringly, as if no one else exists."

I rolled my eyes. "You're just jealous."

She shrugged. "You two are cute together, I'll give you that."

I smiled. "Well, he's cute at least. I don't know about me."

She shook her head. "He's not cute without you."

I laughed at that. "What time is it anyway?" I said changing the subject.

"Dinner time," she said.

"That late?" I asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "I just came up to change then I'm heading back down."

"Okay," I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I touched my feet to the cold tile of the floor. Dakota was yanking on jeans and a clean tee shirt while I rooted around on the floor for shoes.

"Come on," Dakota said. "You don't want to keep wonder boy waiting."

I smiled. "Wonder boy? Cute nickname."

She rolled her eyes and led the way out the door. We proceeded downstairs and across the lawn between the dorm and the dining hall. Serena joined us, chattering idly about the flute sectional and how her freshmen were coming along nicely. As we passed through the doors of the dining hall, a pair of strong arms clamped themselves tightly around my waist.

"I missed you," a voice rumbled in my ear.

I smiled. "I missed you too, Rob," I replied. He planted a kiss behind my ear before releasing me to spin me around and capture my lips. His touch was comforting after all the difficulty of the day.

"You two, break it up," a stern voice said. "How many times do I have to remind you that public displays of affection will not be allowed?"

I turned and saw David standing there, scolding us. He had an angry scowl on his face. It hurt me but I didn't want him to know this so I smiled sweetly.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I just can't seem to help myself."

His scowl deepened. "Learn self-control, Miss Scott."

"A quality many of us need to learn," I replied.

"Some more than others," he said. "Go eat your dinner. You're wasting too much time."

"Yes sir," Rob said, pulling me toward the line. I filled my plate with vegetarian lasagna and garlic bread while Rob grabbed a big cheeseburger and a plate of French fries. We sat down together a table and were joined quickly by several of our friends. Everyone else settled into comfortable conversation. I, however, was trapped in my own mind, contemplating the mystery of all that had happened that day.

The thoughts of my clashes with David plagued me through dinner and the evening rehearsal and the stolen moments I shared with Rob in the bushes behind the rehearsal hall. I barely registered thought as he kissed me and rubbed his hands along my sides and back. I kissed him back with all I could offer him. He lifted my shirt and unsnapped my bra, running his hands over my bare skin, groaning and kissing me in the darkness of our stolen corner. I ran my hands over his skin under his tee shirt.

His breathing was heavy as he slowed his kisses, planting one last kiss where my neck met my shoulder. "We need to go before they find us," he said.

I sighed and nodded against his shoulder. I reached behind me to clasp my bra. I fumbled with the hooks.

"Help me," I whispered to Rob.

I could almost see him smile in the darkness as he reached around to fix the clasp of my bra, letting his hands linger on the sensitive skin of my sides as I went to pull my shirt down. He stood and offered me his hands to help me to his feet. Together we walked to the halfway point between our dorms and he kissed me gently. "I'll see you in the morning, Fern," he said.

"Good night," I bid him softly.

I walked across the grass to my dorm, crossing through the doors with the last of the stragglers of girls getting back to the dorms. Dakota wasn't in our room when I arrived so I changed into my pajamas alone and crawled into bed. It was ten thirty and I wasn't tired but I closed my eyes and rolled onto my side, facing the wall as I tried to sleep. I heard Dakota come in from the bathroom and shut the door quietly. She rustled around for a few minutes and then flicked the lights off. I heard her mattress groan as she climbed into bed. She sighed softly and I listened as her breathing grew slow and even. She was asleep and still I laid in bed, unable to rest.

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling tiles. There were brown stains in the white tiles and I counted the number of black pinpricks in the ceiling. My mind would not shut down to allow me to sleep. I kept replaying everything that had happened that day. I could hear every word that David… Mr. Dempsey had screamed at me. Even though he hadn't used the exact words, in the course of the day, he'd essentially called me a talentless, stupid, whore. His words rang in my head along with the words of Mr. Spear and every insult that I came up with for myself. I knew in my heart I wasn't anything they called me or I called myself but the words were ingrained into my mind and my head kept telling me that I was all of those things. I had no talent, I was stupid, I was irresponsible, and I was a whore.

I looked at the clock and saw the glowing red numbers. It was twelve-thirty. I had laid in bed for two hours just trying to turn my brain off to sleep.

I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Not entirely sure what I was doing, I pulled on a pair of jeans and pulled a sweatshirt on over my tee-shirt. Quietly, I opened the door to our room and stuck my head out. The hallway was dark and it was late enough that all the chaperones were in bed sleeping.

It was silent and cold as I walked down the hallway and through the front doors. The doors were unlocked. I'd expected there to be resistance to my escape but I found none.

We were in the mountains so it was very cold at night. Mist rolled from the hills making it considerably colder than the horribly hot and humid days. I walked across the campus, not knowing where I was going; I just knew I was going. I had to get away… away from myself, away from everything.

I broke into a run. I was flying along the sidewalk, past trees and park benches. As I ran, tears started running down my face. How had I messed everything up so bad? Maybe Mr. Dempsey was right about me. I was just a screw up.

I slowed as I reached a part of campus I had never seen before. I was panting and crying and so confused. I sat down on a nearby park bench, wiping desperately at the tears on my cheeks.

It was impossible for me to tell how long I had been there. I heard muffled footsteps approach but barely registered them, hiding my face with my hands.

"Fern?"

It was Mr. Dempsey.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" he demanded. "Curfew is at eleven and it is one-thirty in the morning! You're not even sort of close to your dorm and unless you do some serious sleep-walking, you have no reason to be over here, by the boys' dorm. What are you thinking? Again, you put yourself in danger. How can you do this to yourself? To me? You have no idea the fire I'd come under if anything happened to you!"

"I'm sorry," I croaked, peering up at him.

His face registered shock. "Fern? Why are you crying?" He crouched down in front of me. "Did something happen to you? Did Rob do anything to you? Tell me what's wrong!"

He reached for my hands and pulled them away from my face, holding them gently. For the first time in a long time, I could see genuine concern on his face. I cried even harder. I didn't want him to see me like this… so weak. It was his words, his actions that had done this to me. Didn't he get that?

"Tell me what's wrong," he urged. "Whatever happened, we'll fix this, okay? Come on, Fern, tell me what I can do."

My tempered flared. "You've done enough," I said roughly, trying to shove him away. I stood up and he stood with me, holding fast to my hands.

"Come on, Fern. Tell me what happened," he said.

As I let out a sob, he pulled me into a hug. I felt repulsed. Now he was trying to comfort me? After everything he'd said about me? After all he'd done to me and put me through, he wanted to help me? With all the strength I had, I shoved him away.

His face showed his surprise. He wasn't angry, just surprised at what I had done.

"You don't understand!" I yelled through the tears. "You're what happened to me!"

"Me?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, turning to walk away from him. "I liked you and damn it if I don't still do but you shoved me away and now you call me all these names and tell me I'm all these things I don't want to be. And I think you're right about me. If I were really as smart as everyone else seems to think I am, I wouldn't have gotten myself into this mess!"

He blanched. "Hey, I've been really mad at you and I'm sorry and you know you're not all those things I've said you are."

"Now you apologize? When you realize what you're doing to me?" I replied incredulously. "It's too late now! I feel like I'm in a million pieces and your words aren't nearly enough to fix me!"

I tried to run away but he grabbed me and pulled me back against him. I was tight against his chest and I could feel his heart beating slowly against his breastbone. For a second, I was still and didn't try to escape as he wrapped his arms around my waist. "Fern, I'm sorry. Please, forgive me."

I wanted to for a moment. I wanted to forget everything he had said to me and let things go back to the way they had been, before everything got so messed up. For a second, I let myself be comforted by the sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of his arms, the feel of his chin resting gently on the top of my head.

Then I remembered Rob and I remembered Susan. It couldn't be. If I accepted his apology, we'd just end up fighting again and the wound would be reopened. Maybe it was just best to let it bleed…

I pushed him away firmly. "I'm sorry," I said, my eyes tearing up again. "I know you mean it but… I can't. Not now."

"Fern…" his voice trailed off.

With a sob, leaned forward and kissed him briefly on the lips and then ran with everything I had, back the way I had come. When I reached the dorm, I went back to the room and climbed in bed, not bothering to take off my jeans or sweatshirt. Trying my hardest not to wake Dakota, I quietly cried myself to sleep.

I woke the next morning to Serena and Dakota standing over me with worried expressions on their faces.

"Fern, are you okay?" Dakota asked.

"I'm… fine," I croaked. My throat felt raw and my eyes were puffy and probably red-rimmed. At the rate I was going, I was going to look like I had chronic pink-eye.

"You missed breakfast," Serena said. "Dakota tried to wake you but you wouldn't get up."

"I didn't sleep well," I told them.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dakota asked. "No offense, but you look and sound terrible."

I shook my head. "No, I guess I'm not okay."

"Do you feel up to practice today?" Serena questioned.

I shook my head. "I just want to sleep."

"I'll tell Mr. Dempsey you're sick," Dakota said. "He'll probably send somebody to check on you later."

I nodded. "I feel bad for missing two days in a row…"

"If you're sick, you're doing no one any good," Dakota said. "Feel better, Fern."

I closed my eyes and slept on. When I woke again, it was after lunch time. I wasn't hungry and I still felt terrible. My throat ached, my head pounded, and my eyes felt like someone had poured sand into my eye sockets. I sat up in bed and looked out the window. The band was on the field, working on the routine but I couldn't find David out there.

There was a soft knock on the door and then it creaked open softly. David stood in my doorway, looking over at me.

"Your friends told me you weren't feeling well," he said. "I came to check on you earlier but you didn't wake up."

"I only just woke up," I told him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Terrible," I said.

"Do you need anything?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Just call my cell phone if you need anything," he said. "I can have one of the chaperones run it up to you."

I nodded as he turned to leave.

"David?" I called softly after him.

He turned around and looked at me with a slightly hopeful expression. I was about to break my heart and his in one fell swoop.

"I… I don't know if we'll ever be friends again," I said, staring down at my lap. "I hope we will but… maybe there's just too much baggage between us. Maybe things will never be the way we wish they were. God, I wish life were fair but it isn't… It just isn't…"

He nodded sadly. "I know it isn't, Fern. And maybe that's why things have to be this way." He turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. I laid down, under the covers, pulling them over my head, and tried to block out all the sad voices in my head as I went to sleep.

XxXxXxXxX

So… since I took so long in updating, you get a twofer. I'm going to do my best to knock out at least one chapter a week through October since I will be participating in National Novel Writing Month in November and thus will not have much time for this story.

I encourage all of you to IM me at Loudsilence99. I write faster when people bug me. 


	24. XXIV

Band camp couldn't seem to end fast enough for me. David and I weren't constantly exploding at each other constantly anymore but in many ways, the silence was worse. In rehearsal and marching practice, I'd see him watching me. He didn't scowl at me much any more; he just looked at me with an unreadable expression on his face. Even when Rob and I were together, he rarely came out with his usual scathing comments. Instead, he'd just shoot us a look.

Several times during the last week, I saw Susan around the campus. She smiled and waved at David from the stands while we worked up the entire show. It made my heart hurt at times but I shoved my pain away and reminded myself that we'd chosen this, that I'd chosen this. I knew there was no other way.

The days slipped by quickly and slowly. I played and I marched as best as I could, learning every note and every step of the show were going to play. As I marched, I tried to set an example for all the freshmen. Maybe they appreciated it, maybe they didn't. I guess it didn't matter. Even without David constantly on me for every little thing, I was so down on myself. Why couldn't I go back to who I'd been? There was little strength left in me and I didn't recognize myself at times. Where had my joy gone? Had a destroyed relationship really left me this way? Was that all it took to break me? Maybe I was weak and brittle but I was still me and broken as I was, I had to endure.

I practiced my French horn every day for hours whenever I had free time, until the girls sharing my dorm would scream at me to stop. By the end of the first week, I had been moved to practice in the rehearsal hall, all alone, after even the chaperones grew frustrated with my playing. To them, it probably sounded perfect and they thought it was pointless to do things over and over again. To me, though, it seemed to grow worse and worse every time. I seemed to grow more and more mechanical and less musical. My technique was gradually becoming absolutely flawless but there was no passion, no emotion behind it. I loved playing; it was my joy, but I couldn't seem to get the love into the music.

Frustrated that I still wasn't up to form, I vented my anger and self-loathing by blasting in marching band. I managed to play louder than the entire band, blaring all my parts loud and proud for all to hear. David kept sending me questioning looks but never said anything about my increased volume. He must have sensed something was wrong and he must've said something to the drum major because neither said a word to me.

I had two more torturous lessons with Mr. Spear. At each of them, I tried with everything I had in me to do what he wanted, to play like I knew he wanted me to. Mr. Harvey sat in the corner where David had sat, a frown on his face as he listened. I knew that he could hear the difference and it bugged him. Why had everything become this way? I couldn't understand. I tried harder and harder to play the way I once had but instead of improving, it became more and more mechanical. There was no spark and no fire.

Mr. Spear couldn't complain about any of my technique any more and admitted it himself. My scales and sight-reading were flawless. Anything musical, though, sounded wooden. In my lesson, he made me play the same pieces over and over again. He didn't say much anymore; he just flicked his hand whenever I finished a piece, indicating that I needed to do it again. He'd furrow his brow and pace the room, scowling at me. Usually after the third time, I'd start crying silently, my tears blurring my vision and obscuring the piece so I had to rely on memory. It was a little better when I was falling apart though. Mr. Spear would heave a sigh and nod slightly before flicking his hand at the page again so we'd start the process over. I don't think either of us fully understood what was happening to me, just that I wasn't myself anymore. On the way out of my lessons, I was always exhausted, always ready to collapse as Mr. Harvey ushered me quietly out of the office and into the car. We wouldn't speak until after we'd bought coffee at Starbucks and then it was only inane conversation about band camp. I didn't even know how to tell him what was wrong.

I don't think Rob noticed a difference in me. I still smiled at him and flirted and kissed him. He was still Rob, my fun, affectionate boyfriend who seemed to be making every effort to get in my pants. I'd kiss him and let him touch me but when he went too far, I pushed him away. I wasn't ready and sometimes, I couldn't help but pictures someone else's face as I felt his lips on mine.

Band camp both dragged on and flew by at the same time. Soon, I was dragging myself off the bus in the high school parking lot, clutching my pillow and purse. As I stepped foot off the bus and made my way toward Rob's car, I looked over my shoulder. David was standing by the bus with his clipboard but instead of checking off names, he was staring at me. He had a strange look in his eyes as he gazed. It was a mixture of longing and loathing and something else I couldn't determine. I held up one hand, making to wave. He just stared at me and I let my hand drop lamely. Though it hurt somewhere I couldn't place, I turned away from him and followed my boyfriend.

The last few weeks of the summer passed quickly. I spent at least four days a week working at Arby's. Rob would take me to and from work every day. I'd come home stinking of roast beef and horsey sauce, a sheen of grease on my skin and hair. It was disgusting but it was a paycheck. When I wasn't working, I was either at one of my dreaded lessons or with Rob. We went to see movies that we never ended up watching and to the beach and out to eat. We were two regular high school teenagers who thought they were crazy in love. Or at least that's what I tried to tell myself.

On my last day off before the school year started, Serena dragged me away from Rob to go to the mall for school clothes. I agreed, though reluctantly. I hadn't spent nearly enough time with my best friend.

"You cannot buy that," Serena told me as I inspected a belt with piano keys printed on it. "I will not let you further mark yourself as the ultimate band dork."

"Oh come on. Everyone already knows I am," I pointed out.

"No more labeling," she said, tossing a red shirt at me. "You are trying that on."

I looked it over. As it was rather cute, I decided to let her have one small victory. The pink floral top I had to object to, however. Just because I had worn one very girly dress did not mean I was going to wear everything pink and flowery.

"I like this one," I said, picking out a blue empire waist top. It was a soft jersey knit cotton.

Serena nodded. "You'd look good in that. Now go try those on. I know you want to hit Barnes and Noble before we leave and I have to work tonight."

"Okay," I agreed.

I ended up purchasing both of the tops plus two new pairs of jeans and a cute pair of sequined flats. Serena wrangled me into purchasing a pair of hoop earrings and a few beaded necklaces to accessorize my new fall wardrobe but I didn't mind much. I dragged her into buying a black mini skirt and a green v-neck top that looked really good on her.

After browsing through every clothing store in the mall the Serena thought was worthy of our business, we collapsed at a table at the Starbucks in Barnes and Noble with our shopping bags. "I'll buy the mochas," Serena volunteered, "If you will buy the chocolate cream cheese muffins."

"Deal," I said. We got our goodies and sat back down at the table to enjoy. "Have you gotten your schedule yet?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "They don't go out until next week." She smiled at me. "So, spill it. Done the deed yet?"

"Serena!" I exclaimed, swatting her hand playfully. "I can't believe you asked me that!"

"What?" she asked. "You two were so hot and heavy at band camp, people wondered when the wedding would be. Answer my question."

I could feel my face flushing beet red. "No, we haven't."

"But it could be any day," she said. Serena stated it like a fact.

I shrugged. "He wants to. I've been holding off."

"Why?" she asked. "Don't you like him?"

"I do," I said. "It's just… having sex is a really big step. Do I really want to give it up for him?"

"That's for you to decide, babe," she said. "I can't ever make it for you. Do what feels right for you."

We talked for a little while longer before getting in her car and heading home. It was strange to think how Serena's and my lives were going more and more separate. The next day, Mr. Harvey picked me up after work because he wanted to talk.

"How about ice cream?" he asked.

"Sure," I replied.

He pulled into the parking lot at the ice cream parlor. We went inside and slid into a booth across from each other.

"Tell me how you are, really, Fern," he said after we ordered our sundaes.

I smiled wryly. "I'm… okay," I said. "Life is just complicated. I don't understand what's happening sometimes."

He nodded. "Eugene is worried about you," he told me. "I know something is wrong other than a musical funk."

"I know there is," I said. "I don't understand myself these days. Everything keeps getting more and more messed up inside of me."

"What causing all the turmoil?" he asked.

"Nothing. Everything," I said. I let out a sigh. "I don't even get it myself half the time. Everything was going great. Then all this… crap happened. It should have all been fine. I don't get why everything is affecting me this way. I can't seem to do a single thing right these days. Everything is messed up and I don't know how to fix it."

"Like what's gone on?" he asked.

I sighed. "Well…" I didn't know how to explain what had went down between me and David. "I have a boyfriend now and it's gotten in the way of some of my other relationships. I thought it would all be great but it just makes things even more complicated."

"Relationships can do that," he said. He sighed. "I worry about you."

"Why?" I asked.

"You're like my daughter, Fern," he said. "I don't want to see you hurt by this boy you're dating. I'm afraid of the way things could turn out."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He sighed. "How does one approach this subject?" He paused as the waitress set our sundaes down. "I don't want you to get hurt." He stared at his hot fudge sundae. "I'm going to be frank. I don't think you're ready for this kind of relationship."

"What kind of relationship do you think I'm having?" I questioned.

"A… sexual relationship," he said, not meeting my eyes. "Fern, you're not even sixteen yet. You barely know who you are yourself; you aren't ready to give even a small part of yourself away to someone else. I don't want to see you hurt by this. Please tell me I'm not getting to this too late, that the ship hasn't already sailed."

I shook my head. "We haven't… yet."

"Yet, Fern?" he asked. "Please don't. Please… please wait. I think… if you do this now, you'll regret it later. Your virginity is not something you can get back once you give it away. I'm not naïve enough to tell you that you absolutely must wait until you're married but you need to think about this more. You're so young, Fern; you've got your whole life ahead of you still."

"I know this," I said. "And I know I'm not ready yet. But… it might be soon. I'm making no promises, here. Rob and I love each other."

He shook his head and sighed. "I don't want to see you do anything you'll regret."

"I know," I said. "And it's great you care so much about me but… this is my life." I took a spoonful of my sundae.

"I know," he said, smiling tightly. "You have to live and learn your own way. I'm just here to help you along the way." He squeezed my shoulder affectionately.

We were silent for a minute, each eating our sundaes and thinking.

"How's your mom?" he asked, breaking the silence.

I shrugged. "Fine, I guess. We don't see each other that much. We keep such different hours."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"She'd been taking nights more and more," I said. "She makes better money that way. When she's home, she's usually asleep."

"Have you two talked about you and Rob?" he asked.

"She knows I have a boyfriend, if that's what you mean," I said. "Come on, Mr. H. This is Dr. Scott we're talking about. Her idea of a mother-daughter heart to heart to heart is asking me how my allergies are these days and if I need any tampons when she goes to the drug store." I sighed and looked out the window. "It's been more than five years since Dad died and I still miss him. Mom isn't going to win any mother of the year awards; it was always dad who was there for me."

He smiled sadly. "Hey, even if you're mom isn't always there for you, you know that there are plenty of us who love and care about you," he said, reaching out to take my hand. He squeezed my fingers. "Like me for instance. You know you're like a daughter to me."

"And you're like a father to me," I replied. I smiled slightly. "I'm glad I'll always have you. Even if you were a complete loser in leaving me at Blades while you go off for bigger and better things."

"Hey, I did offer to take you along with me," he said.

"I know you did," I replied. "But no way am I copping out on the band like that. I think I'd find myself lynched for even thinking about leaving the band."

"True," he said. "Even the upperclassmen look to you as a leader. You've worked really hard, Fern, and you are enormously talented."

"And you are way too nice," I told him. "With the way my lessons are going, I'm beginning to doubt that."

"You and I both know that this is going to get better," he said. "You're just stuck in a rut. Something will happen to drag you out of it. I promise."

"Well, if you promise," I said.

"I do," he confirmed. "Now finish your sundae. I need to get you home."

We both ate our ice cream, chatting idly about lighter subjects: school, work, marching band, and his new job. After our check was settled, he dropped me off at my house.

"Be good, Fern," he said.

"Aren't I always?" I asked impishly, giving him a hug before exiting the car.

The house was dark as mom had left for her shift before I'd gotten home. After coming in through the garage and into the dark kitchen, I opened the fridge to find something to drink and saw nothing in there but a few containers of Chinese takeout and a carton of spoiled milk. With a sigh, I shut the door. We needed groceries, clearly. Mom had been eating in the hospital cafeteria so much, she rarely noticed that we didn't have much to eat or drink in the house. I found a glass in one of the cabinets and filled it with water from the tap. On the counter, there was a pile of mail that I sorted through. There was a new J. W. Pepper catalogue and a new woodwinds and brasswinds catalogue, much to my joy. I loved poring over the pages of instruments and music and imagining what I would buy if I had an infinite supply of money. A new Bach Stradivarius was first on the list. They had a new limited edition model I was lusting after. It was too bad I needed a new French horn more…

I fantasized about buying more shiny new instruments before flipping through the rest of my mail. There was a letter from the Baltimore Academy requesting my presence at an open house in two weeks. There was also a pile of bills that I set aside for mom. There were a few more clothing catalogues; Alloy, Delia's, and American Eagle for me, Chadwicks, Landsend, and Coldwater Creek for Mom. At the bottom of the stack, I found an envelope from the school. Slitting the envelope open with my fingernail, I pulled out the sheaf of papers inside. The top sheet was a letter from the principal, welcoming me back to Blades High School for another God forsaken year. A few more papers explained the school dress code, school rules, and gave a calendar of school events. The last sheet that fell out was my schedule.

Period 1: AP English 10- P. Smith  
Period 2: Honors Precalculus- H. Cleary  
Period 3: Teacher's Aid- D. Dempsey  
Period 4: Concert Chorus- J. Evans  
Period 5: Honors Biology I- F. Cannon  
Period 6: AP US History- T. Lee  
Period 7: Concert/Marching Band- D. Dempsey  
Period 8: AP Music Theory- J. Evans/D. Dempsey

My heart hit my stomach. Oh man. Two full class periods with him, plus one class taught jointly by him and the chorus teacher. I had no idea what the school year would bring and I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

XxXxXxXxX

Okay, so I'm really sorry for taking so long to update. The last couple months have been absolutely insane. It's college application season, along with my college auditions and being sick off and on for the entire time. Believe it or not, I am actually going to college to major in voice. As of August 2008, I will be attending Eastern University to major in music (performance and/or church music) on a joint academic scholarship and a music scholarship. Best of luck to all of you who are also in the middle of the college/scholarship mess! I hope to post another update relatively soon.


	25. XXV

My senior year of high school began well enough. On August 28th, I woke up to the annoying bleating of my alarm clock at 6 AM. Serena was picking me up so we could meet Rob and Dennis for coffee before heading off to school. I forcibly dragged myself out from under the pile of blankets on my bed and shut the clock off.

The house was dark and silent. Mom was pulling a twenty-four hour shift in the ER, leaving me to fend for myself. The only noise in the entire house was the muffled creak of the floor joists as I walked from my bedroom to my bathroom. I woke up more when I stepped into the shower, letting the jets of steamy hot water wake me up slowly.

I thought about what the new day would bring. The thought of no longer being a freshman was certainly appealing although there were many things I'd miss. Mr. Harvey would not be in the band office when I went there. David would be there instead. I'd miss having Mr. H around to talk to. I told him everything and he was always glad to hear it. Instead, I would be spending two periods of my eight period day with David, who—by all appearances—utterly despised me.

My guidance counselor had also manhandled me into taking chorus because I was a musician. Apparently, Mrs. Evans, the chorus teacher, begged him to get me into chorus since I could read music and carry a tune. Mr. Harvey had also agreed with the idea, saying that singing would improve my musicianship. Though I had my misgivings, I decided, in the end, that taking chorus was much better than the alternative: AP Statistics.

Fortunately for me, I had friends in most of my classes. Serena and I had English, Math, Biology, and Band in common. Rob was in History, Biology, Band, and Theory with me. I'd tried to convince him to join me in chorus but he reminded me that he couldn't carry a tune if it had handles. Dakota, however, had agreed to sign up for chorus with me, in addition to band and music theory so it was shaping up to be a good year so far.

At least as far as having friends in my classes went, anyway. Teacher-wise, things weren't looking so great.

I had two classes with David and another one where he was a team teacher. Working with him was potentially the hardest part of my schedule but some of my other teachers weren't exactly easy to work with either. My English teacher, Mr. Smith, was notoriously hard and was anal-retentive about proper MLA formatting on all papers. Miss Cleary, for AP Calculus BC, was apparently a very dry lecturer. At least Mrs. Evans and Mr. Cannon were apparently fairly nice but Mr. Lee was from England and taught British history like a dictator. At least studying the revolutionary war from the other side with him teaching would offer a unique perspective.

I got out of the shower and dried off quickly. My hair was growing fast but luckily did not require much styling. I padded across the hall back to my room and starting getting dressed. The night before, Serena had come over and invaded my closet, picking out my first day of school outfit. Serena had picked out a camo miniskirt, black tee shirt, and black sandals. Though I definitely had my doubts about the selection, I never underestimated Serena and her fashion sense. She was among the best dressed girls in school and she'd never led me astray when it came to clothing. Even when we were in middle school, she'd taken it upon herself to keeps me from dressing atrociously. Though I had desired to wear only tee-shirts from various musical events with jeans or sweatpants, she forced me into the occasional skirt and shirts that actually didn't look like muumuus.

Serena and I had been best friends since before either of us could remember. Our moms had been best friends in high school. They'd taken almost all the same classes, had played the same sports, been in the same organizations, and graduated with the same GPA. My mom had gone on to Columbia University for her Biology degree, where she met my dad who was studying horn at Julliard. Serena's mom, Laura, ended up at Sarah Lawrence, studying pre-law. They both ended up at Yale, mom struggling through med-school after marrying my dad and Serena's mom working on her law degree. It was my dad who introduced Serena's parents. That fact was once considered a good thing.

Mom and Laura graduated within a year of each other from Yale. Both wanted to move back to Blades to start their respective families and ended up buying houses across the street from each other. Though it was virtual career suicide for a musician like my dad, he just wanted mom to be happy so he agreed to move. His friend Andrew married Laura and they settled down. Andrew was a computer analyst and could make a good living just about anywhere so everyone was happy with the move, especially the ladies. Within a year of moving back to Blades, both Laura and my mom were pregnant. My mom miscarried, though, leaving both her and my father completely devastated. Laura, however, bore a beautiful baby girl named Serena. Almost immediately after her birth, my mom, who had not dared to hope that she could ever get pregnant again finally put two and two together and realized that all those missed periods meant something other than stress. Low and behold, six months to the day after Serena came into the world, I came in all of my screaming glory.

Unfortunately, it was six months to the day after the birth of his beautiful baby girl that Andrew received an offer he couldn't refuse from the people over in Silicon Valley. Some guy named Bill Gates thought he could be an asset to the company so on November 30, 1989, Andrew was busy packing his bags for California.

He was needed right away so he left his wife and his six month old daughter in Delaware to sell the house and get the affairs in order. Unfortunately, Andrew had his own affairs in California. Laura and baby Serena decided to surprise Andrew with a visit in California. However, the door to his apartment was opened by his blonde secretary wearing one of his shirts.

Serena and I formed a permanent bond over the months following that. Laura and baby Serena moved into our house while Laura and Andrew were battling it out in divorce court. Our moms would plunk us down in the playpen to amuse ourselves while they had their long discussions. Eventually, the divorce was settled and Laura and Serena moved out of our house and into a small house in a nearby neighborhood. The bond between Serena and myself never diminished though. We grew up together, riding bikes to each other's houses, sharing books, and having countless sleepovers. Our mothers, however, grew apart. Mom was a workaholic and after Dad died, she became even worse. Laura never forced the issue of spending time together, also throwing herself into a heavy caseload.

Andrew was the one who made out best in the whole situation. When Microsoft began its ascent, Bill Gates rewarded his employees richly, especially those like Andrew who had helped make Windows software what it was. With all the money he was still raking in, I wasn't all that surprised to see Serena drive up in a brand new Mustang convertible.

"What happened to the old car?" I asked when I climbed into the front seat of the car with her.

"Dad came for a visit," she said. "He's in town for all of a day, just long enough to drag me to the car dealership, ignore what I wanted in a car, and pick out the car he thinks I should be driving."

"What did you want?" I asked.

"I wanted a Toyota Prius, if I was going to get anything. He wouldn't even stop at that dealership," she said. "I tried to talk him into a Focus or an Edge but he wanted me in a fully loaded Mustang convertible."

"Ostentatious," I said. "Did he at least let you pick the color?"

"Oh, I had a choice between two since there were only two fully loaded GT convertibles," she said. "Black or fluorescent yellow."

I winced. "Glad you went with the black."

"Seriously," she said. "With the black top, the yellow would've looked like a bumble bee going down the road."

"What does your mom think about it?" I asked.

"She's disgusted, as well she should be," Serena replied. "When she complained, he offered her a Mercedes."

"Did she accept?"

"No. She told him to come back when he had a Bentley."

"And what did he do?"

"Went to the Bentley dealership and bought mom an Azure," she said wryly.

"You're kidding," I said. "He bought his ex-wife a Bentley?"

"Why not? The bimbo now has three cars: the Bentley, the Ferrari, and the 1964 Mustang convertible," Serena informed me. "By the way, I told him you're still my best friend so he gave me an envelope to give to you."

I laughed. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious, Fern. It's in my purse," she said. "Get it out."

I pulled a white envelope out of her purse. "Oh my God, Serena! This is a five year CD!"

"Typical of my father to give investments for gifts. How much is it for?" she asked.

"It'll mature to fifteen grand," I said.

"Not bad. He said to tell you that you'll be getting something nice for graduation. I'm thinking either cash or diamonds," she said. "I'm surprised he didn't give this to you himself. Dad doesn't just give you a gift; he _gives_ you a gift."

"Oh yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "He gave me the car but he had to tell me all the features, how to take care of it, how much to insure it for, and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!"

I was silent.

"Sorry," she said. "I know it's hard for you to hear about my dad."

I shook my head. "Hey, I had ten great years with my Dad. Those are worth way more than any car. Mom may be gone but I always had the memories of Dad."

She reached over and patted my hand. "Cheer up. It's the first day of school and we're meeting your boy toy for breakfast. Just think: wonderful coffee and your favorite muffins."

We pulled into the Starbucks parking lot and were immediately greeted by our boyfriends. Dennis opened Serena's door and helped her out of the car before wrapping her in his arms for a good morning kiss. Rob opened my door and I propelled myself into his embrace, not even waiting for a hello. When I felt his tongue move across my lips, Serena cleared her throat.

I blushed and pulled away from Rob. "Sorry Fern, I can't let you eat your boyfriend for breakfast. I promised you muffins."

A shot her a dirty look and she laughed.

"Come on guys," Serena said. "Let's get breakfast before we have to be at school."

We went up to the counter to place our orders. "Grande mocha, grande caramel macchiato, and two chocolate cream cheese muffins," Serena ordered. She turned her head. "Boys, what do you want?"

"Tall vanilla latte and a cranberry muffin for me," Rob said.

"I vill haf a grand late and a blubbery muffin," Dennis said.

"Got it all?" Serena asked the boy behind the counter.

"Uh… yeah," he said. He repeated the order back and Serena nodded sharply. "Sit," she told the boys. "We have to finish our girl talk."

The boys obediently made their way to a table with four chairs. Serena and I waited at the counter while the order was assembled. "Hey," Serena said. "You're okay right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it's just days like these that I miss dad. He was always there for me and if he was still around, I'd be going to Peabody instead of Blades high school now."

"Oh that would be horrible!" Serena said. "I'd miss you too much if you went there."

I cracked a smile. "Oh please, with Dennis here, you'd never notice I was gone."

"No one can replace a best friend," she said. "Not even a boyfriend."

We joined the boys at the table, sipping our coffee and eating our muffins while we chatted about our schedules. Dennis and Serena were so cute together. He had his arm settled around her waist comfortably and she absently played with his hair. Rob and I were more disgusting then they were, sad as it was to say. The fourth chair at our table became unnecessary as I perched in his lap.

"So how is our senior year shaping up for you?" Serena asked me.

I cracked a smile. "It will be interesting," I said. "I mean, I've got a lot of difficult classes but I can handle it. I can never figure out why I'm so stressed out during school."

"Are you serious?" Serena said. "Come on. You take the hardest classes possible and you're always practicing all of your music."

"I've been telling her all summer that she can afford to lay off the practicing," Rob butted in. "She's so brilliant. I can hardly believe how good she is when I hear her."

"Rob, you know how much I'm supposed to practice each week," she said. "If I want to get any better and get into a good college program, much less make Mr. Spear happy, the two hours I practice a day barely cut it."

"You must practice this much?" Dennis asked.

I nodded. "It takes dedication to play an instrument well," I told him.

"Vell, Serena plays the flute most wonderful but she does not practice half so much," he said.

I smiled. "Oh Serena is great," I said.

"But Fern is on a professional level," Serena finished. "Seriously, this chick blows me away on a regular basis. I can't believe Julliard hasn't snapped her up."

I laughed. "Well, I certainly hope they snap me up for college. I'd love to go there."

"You're a shoo-in," Rob assured me. "But right now, we all need to concern ourselves with passing high school. If we don't leave now, we will probably be late."

All of us sprang from our seats like someone had lit a fire under us in effort to get to school on time. We made it in just as the first bell rang, giving us enough time to scurry to our classes. Serena and I dashed to the second floor to our English class with the ever strict Mr. Smith. We slid into our seats with just moments to spare before the bell blared its obnoxious call to learning.

As it did every other morning during the school year, the loud speaker crackled to life.

"Good morning Blades High School," Mr. Bunting's voice sounded into the class room. "Please rise for the pledge of allegiance."

We all rose to our feet and recited. "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with justice for all." We stood in silence (well, relative quiet, anyway) for a few moments before taking our seats.

"To our freshmen: welcome to the best four years of your life. You will learn much in the coming months. Stay strong and work hard; it will all be fine. To our upperclassmen: welcome back to Blades High School. Please do well to remember the rules. Continue to work hard in your academic journeys. Make this the best school year ever a Blades High School and have a great first day everybody!"

The speaker crackled off leaving the room quiet. Mr. Smith took it as his cue to begin. "Good morning class and welcome to Senior honors English. Let's begin with the attendance."

He called off each name one by one. Ninety percent of the names were ones I recognized from previous years in school, plus a few others who had either transferred from other schools or other classes. We were the smart kids, the ones smart enough to be in honors.

"Alright class," Mr. Smith began. "We are all present and accounted for. Let's begin with passing out the plans for this year. You!" he said, pointing at Erin, a girl I knew from band. "Miss… Miss… um… Miss…"

"Blackwell," she said. "Miss Erin Blackwell."

"Take these and hand them out," he said, holding a stack of neatly collated and stapled syllabuses. She took them with a grimace. Everyone hated handing out papers and Erin, as part of the popular crowd, resented being chosen by a teacher to do a menial task deserving of a geek. She accomplished her task as quickly as possible, taking as little time as necessary to give each person the paperwork.

"Now class, you are beginning your last year of high school. Please learn from the mistakes you made from last year," Mr. Smith said. "You are no longer freshmen and I will not hold your hand and walk you through every basic step in this class. I expect you to work and I expect you to learn. Let's begin by going over the syllabus."

We explained in minute detail everything we were doing that year. It seemed… time consuming. There would be a five page essay due every two weeks on either a book we were reading or a subject given to us by Mr. Smith. Quarterly, we would be expected to turn in a larger research paper at least fifteen pages in length. My head was already spinning by the time the bell rang and Serena and I made our way down the hall toward AP calculus BC with Miss Cleary. Again, it was much of the same we'd done in our English class: typical first day procedures. We went over the class rules and syllabus. However, on top of that, we had to take a test to evaluate our math skills, particularly our trigonometry skills. I did not appreciate being tested my first day back at school however I took it like a man and sucked it up. Taking the test had to be better than what was coming: my teacher's aide period with one David Dempsey.

The bell rang and I began gathering my things slowly.

"Hey, see you soon," Serena said.

"Yeah, later," I said, realizing I couldn't drag things out any longer. I made my way downstairs and into the arts wing.

What would he say? He had to know I was his aide but he couldn't be happy about it. Would he bug me the entire time or ignore me? Would he try to apologize and be friends again or would he continue to hate me?

I stood outside the door to band room. I had never felt that much dread associated with going into that room, not even when I first started playing. It was now or never though, I couldn't put it off. Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on the knob and pushed the door open.

Yes, I am aware that it has been six months since I updated. Never fear, this story will never be abandoned. I've been working on this chapter for six months. It may not seem like it, but it was a hard one to write. I hope you enjoyed it. I make no guarantees on when the next update will be as I start college in ten days. Being a music major is not for the faint of heart.


	26. XXVI

The band room looked empty when I went inside. Only one row of the overhead fluorescent lights was on, leaving a weird sheen on the bulletin boards. I would have thought Mr. Dempsey wasn't in the room except the door was unlocked. I set my backpack down on the floor, making as little noise as possible. Even as it was, the soft thump was nearly deafening in the silence of the room.

I went over to my bulletin board. There was a notice informing me of the after school practice schedule as well as a few notes from my friends in band. Dakota had left a couple sticky notes with little reminders to call her. Apparently she'd made several visits to the band room between band camp and the start of school. I guess she hadn't wanted to share that particular fact to me, knowing how I felt about our band director. She and I had both been so busy, we hadn't talked much. I guess I was too wrapped up in Rob and my other problems.

The heels of my shoes clicked softly on the tile floor as I moved away from my board. Was he really not there? I wasn't going to acknowledge him if he wouldn't recognize that I was there. As I walked across the room, I could see the differences between the band room David kept and the band room Mr. Harvey kept. Aside from the obvious addition of the bulletin boards, there were more changes. The band lockers were free of the usual junk stuffed haphazardly through the barred doors. He'd also moved the position of the podium so it was opposite the door, with the final row of chairs in front of the lockers. He'd even taken time to clean out the two practice rooms that had previously held the broken percussion instruments we had no room for. What he had done with those instruments, I had no idea. He'd also bought a stand rack so the stands were all lined up neatly on the rack instead of being shoved into the corner haphazardly so they were constantly falling over. Maybe it was because it was still early in the year but there was no music spilling out of the filing cabinets or covering the tables at the front of the room. I had rarely seen the place so neat.

It wasn't to say that Mr. Harvey had been a slob about the band room—he hadn't been—but David clearly wanted to keep things neat and organized. It was a new way of doing things. Despite all of the personal issues, David was clearly going to be an amazing band director. In band camp, we'd actually learned the entire show, music and movements with near perfect execution. Never before had I felt better about the upcoming marching season.

I heard fingers typing on a keyboard. So he really was in there and had decided to ignore me. I padded over to the door to the office as quietly as I could and stuck my head around the doorframe. There he was, sitting at his desk, typing away. If he noticed me looking at him, he didn't show it. Instead, he kept typing what appeared to be an email. Maybe he was telling Susan what he was up to? I watched him for a full minute before realizing that it was creepy and obsessive to stare at a guy who was working on his computer. If he was going to ignore me, two could play at that game.

It seemed somehow that practicing would be disrespectful and rude in our self imposed silence. Instead, I needed a quiet activity. As it was the first day of school, I didn't exactly have a large quantity of homework to do. The only thing I'd been told to do was cover my books. Fortunately, however, I had brought along some pleasure reading. Serena had handed me a book about a girl in marching band the week before, insisting that I would love it and had to read it at the earliest possible opportunity. It seemed the appropriate time. The cover certainly looked promising enough: a girl stood on the ten yard line with a bass drum strapped to her chest and the title was The Line, a title I assumed referred to the drum line of the band. It was rare that one saw a girl drummer so I thought her story would be interesting, if fictional. Normally the girls in the band were found in the piccolo and clarinet sections, not the drums or brass. I liked to fly in the face of that. I certainly didn't resent Serena for choosing to play the flute but I certainly preferred to play my lovely French horn.

As I sat and read, David poked his head out of the office door.

"Oh," he said, "you're here."

"Yeah, I'm supposed to be," I replied.

He shrugged. "Just making sure you weren't cutting class." He went back into his office.

I turned back to my book. It was interesting and I certainly enjoyed it but I couldn't focus on it. It hurt to know he was sitting in his office. Damn it! Before we'd screwed everything up, we'd been great friends—best friends. Serena had temporarily been replaced by a French horn playing, cute smiling, completely off limits teacher. It wasn't like he'd had all of the duties of being my best friend, like forcing me to wear decent looking clothes instead of what is most comfortable or keeping me supplied in tons of coffee every day. He was the one who got me best, though. Serena and I had been best friends since we were in the womb but there were certain things about me I didn't think she'd ever understand.

She certainly loved music, yes, but she had never understood how it seemed like my life's blood. Serena would never understand my mother either. Maybe David—Mr. Dempsey—didn't quite either but it seemed he'd already figured out that Mr. Harvey was the real authority in my life. He had overheard that day in the office when I had told Mr. Harvey that I thought of him as my father. It made it hurt that much more that he knew me best and yet we were so far apart. How had things become so screwed up? I couldn't quite understand it. I wanted to hate him for knowing me so well and shoving me away. It made me feel so… so… unworthy.

Logically I knew that as a person I deserved love simply for being me. Illogically, however, because someone knew everything about me and hated me, it felt like there must be something fundamentally wrong with me.

Man did I ever need therapy.

Seriously. I was so far beyond teenage angst and into the world of dark despair, isolated in a dark corner of the band room, brooding over my would-be romance with my teacher. It was so not what I had imagined I'd have been worrying about the first day of my senior year.

I could not _wait_ for the class period to be over.

The ringing of the bell was blessed relief. I bolted from the classroom and on to my next class. Again, I received syllabi and lists of rules. Luckily, lunch was fast approaching.

The vegetarian dishes of the day included a hummus and vegetable platter, a greek salad, or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I grabbed the veggie tray, loading extra hummus and a handful of garbanzo beans. After throwing an apple, chocolate milk, and a brownie onto my plate, I found the table where Rob and Serena were already sitting. I sat down next to Rob who kissed my cheek and squeezed an arm around my waist.

"Hummus, huh?" he said before biting into his burger.

"Chick pea and roasted garlic goodness," I said.

"Amen sister," Serena said.

"Oh you vegetarians you," Rob said, after swallowing down his massive bite of burger.

"Oh you carnivore," I retorted with a smile. "Seriously, I feel no need to kill animals just to fill my stomach."

"And yet you feel the need to eat garlic," he said. "Trying to gross me out?"

"Hmm… hadn't thought of that," I said. "I will brush my teeth if you brush yours."

"Deal," he said with a grin. I turned away when I saw the little bits of beef caught between his teeth. There were some things I just couldn't deal with.

We had a nice lunch and a nice few classes, that is until I went to Music theory class which seemed to have been designed simply as my own personal version of hell. The choir teacher doted on me, having discovered that I was a passable second soprano who could follow a line of music and carry a harmony line. David—Mr. Dempsey—ignored me. I did not see his eyes when he handed me a copy of Elementary Harmony and the information about ordering the workbook.

Band made this all seem like a sunny vacation in Miami, however, given my aforementioned band director's penchant for not actually telling me where I was supposed to be in the drill for the new song he had decided to add to the show. I had to rely fully on our drum major to direct me into position. The moves for the rest of my section were straight forward. Mine, however, were not. I had a duet with Dakota who was on the opposite end of the formation and a complicated set of moves to get me toward the center for our little "battle." In the end, (Drum major's name) handed over the drill sheets surreptitiously. Both of us knew that Mr. Dempsey did not want me to have them. I hid them under my shirt while we were running drill. To make matters worse, I had not been aware of what in particular we would be working on in band when I had selected—or rather let Serena select—my outfit. The camouflage mini and black sandals may have looked really cute but they certainly were not proper marching gear. Fortunately, my marching shoes were in my band locker so I did have proper footwear for the festivities. The skirt, however, left much to be desired.

"Two demerits for improper dress," David had said when I walked through the door.

Unfortunately, he had a point.

The schools dress code required skirts and shorts to be finger tip length. Well, this particular skirt fit the dress code but barely and was a bit tight around my thighs, restricting my movement when I walked. This was problematic in general but nearly lethal in our brief high step section. My skirt rode up high enough that those in the formation behind me (otherwise known as almost the entire band) could see a hint of my lovely rainbow printed underwear.

In hindsight, I imagine it was rather amusing. At the time, I was rather angry at David for being an ass, Serena for picking out the offensive skirt, and myself for not using my head in terms of wardrobe choices.

I was so very happy when the school day was over. Serena and I swung by Hardee's and got orange cream milk shakes. My employees discount had its advantages. We occupied the corner booth where no one else ever seemed to sit. Our conversation began with discussion of the first day of our senior year.

"So… calculus," Serena said after taking a long slurp from her milkshake.

I shrugged. "Calc AB wasn't bad last year. I figure if I get through this, I will never have to take another math class for the rest of my life."

"As if you need math for being the world famous French horn player you're going to be," she said. "My microbiology degree, however…"

"It is your decision," I pointed out.

"Oh believe me, I know," she said. "I have had and internal debate about whether or not I'm insane. I am leaning toward a 'yes' at this point." She shrugged. "No one sticks with their original major in college. I'll wind up switching to something random like Multicultural Education or hotel management."

I laughed. "I personally vote for you switching to a major in Vietnamese."

Serena giggled. "Now that would be amusing." She frowned slightly. "I wish I had obvious gifts and talents the way you do."

I looked away, out at the blue Mazda I saw passing on the street outside. "It doesn't make it easy because I have a talent. In some ways it makes it harder." I smiled wryly. "There's rather a lot of pressure. You should hear Mr. Spear in my lessons. He's so bent on me going to Peabody next year as well."

"But where do you want to go?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Curtis… Julliard… Yale, maybe… Eastman… I'm really not sure. I hadn't really thought about Peabody much until this last year. It's an awesome school, of course, but I am not a huge fan of the city of Baltimore."

"True," she said. She smiled. "I don't feel sorry for you though, I'm afraid. It may be hard but I'll take having a clear direction over my future crisis."

I laughed. "Yeah, I get it."

We were silent for a minute. She looked like she wanted to ask me something.

"I thought you and Mr. Dempsey were friends," she said.

"Where have you been since band camp?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You missed the screaming and the yelling and the hating?" I replied.

"I guess I did," she said. "He really doesn't like you anymore. What happened?"

"Rob," I told her. "It started when I started dating Rob."

"Seriously?" she asked. "This is an extreme case of jealousy?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it really is. I am starting to think that Mr. Dempsey is secretly a teenage boy and not a grown, college educated man."

"They don't grow up, it seems," Serena said. "I mean, you know the mess that happened with my father. He ran off with the bitch and only seems to see me as a pet to spoil."

"That really sucks," I said.

"Enough bad stuff for the day," Serena said with a sigh. "We're young, pretty, have boyfriends, and are currently drinking some delicious milk shakes."

"Indeed we are," I said, toasting her with what remained of my orange cream milk shake.

I didn't say anything more about my problems. Life was way too complicated. I could only hope that things would eventually get simpler.

* * *

Okay, a crucial author's note. Yes, I am aware that it has been nearly a year since the last update. In my defense, I just finished my first year of college. For the record, majoring in music is not for the faint of heart. Eighteen credits last semester, twelve classes. It was lots of fun. I apologize that this chapter is shorter than usual. It was really hard to write, whether it seems that way or not.

As for notes more relevant to the story… Anyone who has done the math about where I am in school versus the year I started writing this story would realize that I was, in fact, thirteen and in the eighth grade when Fern and David first began their illicit romance. At the time, being sixteen and in the tenth grade seemed so very old and mature to me. I am now nineteen and realize that is not true and that Fern is older than I thought she was. For those who have read this story since its infancy, you may have noticed a few changes in this chapter, particularly in terms of grade level. This is not an error; starting with this chapter, I am adjusting the time line and ages of characters. I will be working on editing the past chapters for age, writing quality, and plot consistency. I will do my best to at least get two more (new) chapters out before returning to school.

To anyone who is actually rereading the story: a. you flatter me by actually taking the time to read it more than once and b. I'm afraid all the chapters will not be edited and reposted at once so sorry if you get confused while reading. In all honesty, I will probably be working backwards from most recent and back since the newer chapters require less editing in terms of quality and consistency. I'll be working on it.

When the school year hits again, there will be fewer updates with longer periods in between. Hopefully I will have time to write next semester. I am, however, carrying nineteen credits next semester, including two ensembles, a weekly 90 minute voice lesson, and a teaching assistantship in vocal diction. Oh, and I'm in the honors college at my school, for which the advantage is a heavier course load in exchange for a big scholarship.

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. If you want to talk to me, I'd love to talk to you. Send me a message and I'll give you my screen name or my facebook, if you are interested. Until the next chapter, toodle loo!


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